Repercussions
by honalooloo
Summary: SEQUEL TO REDEMPTION. Set after Series 3 of CBBC's Young Dracula. Vlad and Erin need time to rebuild the shattered remains of their relationship- but with the slayers on their backs and the walls seemingly closing in around them, the odds are well and truly stacked... Vlad/Erin COMPLETE- SEQUEL IS UP
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the Young Dracula characters or locations etc. The only thing I own is the plot of the story._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is the sequel to 'Redemption'. If you haven't already read 'Redemption' then I urge you to do so, as I will be carrying over certain plot-lines etc. in this story. Apart from that, enjoy!_

Chapter 1

Vlad knocked softly on Erin's door. He could hear her crying through the wood. There was a scuffling sound, then the door opened a fraction, the creaking of the hinges sounding as loud as a thunderclap in the silent corridor.

"I'm just about to go to bed," she said, her voice falsely cheery; Vlad could hear the faint tremor in it. "See you in the morning." She made to close the door again, but Vlad wedged his foot into the gap.

"We need to talk about this, Erin," he told her firmly. There was no way he was going to let her deal with this on her own.

Erin's voice hardened. "No, we don't," she snapped. "I'm tired and I'm going to bed." She pushed on the door. "Move your foot, please."

"No."

"Don't be childish, Vlad-"

Vlad rammed his shoulder into the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. It flew open and he staggered into the room, Erin only just jumping backwards in time.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, outraged.

She looked awful. Her mascara was streaked down her face, creating thin rivers of black, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. She rubbed them fiercely, and made a great show of yawning and stretching for Vlad's benefit.

"I'm shattered, Vlad- please, can't we talk about this in the morning?"

She did look dead on her feet, and Vlad was almost tempted to give in. But then he saw the fresh tears sparkling at the back her eyes, and he knew that she needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

"We can talk about it in the morning but we're going to talk about it now, too," he said, walking over to her bed and sitting down on it heavily, folding his arms. Erin sighed- she could tell that he wasn't going to budge. He held out his hands; she hesitated, before placing hers in his and sitting down beside him. Vlad closed his eyes as he felt her rest the warm weight of her head on his shoulder.

"There's no point in panicking until we know the facts," he began, in what he hoped was a calm and measured tone. "The letter says that two delegates from the Guild will be arriving on Tuesday, and then we can get this whole mess cleared up. There's no way they can convict you of anything," he concluded, in an effort to convince himself as much as Erin.

"You don't know the Guild as well as I do," Erin muttered. Vlad could feel her shaking; he placed an arm tentatively around her shoulders, and was pleased that she didn't tense under his touch.

His head felt bleary after the events of the day; he had driven to Leicester and back, a journey that had taken just over six hours; he had broken into the grounds of a grammar school, and he had nearly seen his girlfriend's breasts (though that part had not been planned). The letter and the news it brought was not only unwelcome, but downright confusing.

"I don't understand how they can charge you, just like that," he said, his fingers absent-mindedly fiddling with strands of Erin's hair. "Don't they have to interview you or something first?" He hadn't paid much attention when they had studied the legal system in PSHCE, but as far as he could remember you couldn't just go around charging people for crimes willy-nilly.

"Not in slayer law." Erin pushed herself up, turning to face Vlad properly. His fingers itched to wipe away the glittering tear tracks on her cheeks. "If they think someone's committed a crime then they can just charge them- the thinking is if they're innocent, it will come out at the trial and if they're not, it gets the whole thing over and done with a lot quicker. Of course, the whole system's corrupt," she added, and Vlad could see hear the fear in her voice.

"We'll just have to get you a good lawyer, then," he told her matter-of-factly. Erin snorted.

"And where are we going to get the money from?"

That stumped him.

They sat in silence for a while, tensing every time they heard the creak of floorboards that meant that Bertrand was still up and about. Vlad wondered when his father would return- for once, the Count's knowledge of bizarre and useless trivia would come in handy if they were going to find a loophole in the charge.

Vlad pulled the letter out of his pocket; Erin eyed it warily, as though afraid it might bite her. He took her hand in his, and began to read it through once more:

_Dear Miss Noble,_

_I regret to inform you that after much deliberation, the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain has been forced to charge you with espionage, owing to the events that took place between 9__th__ October and 29__th__ November concerning the Dracula clan of vampires, with whom you are currently residing._

_Two delegates will be despatched to your place of residence on Tuesday 23__rd__ March, in order to discuss the procedure with you and advise you on legal representation._

_The provisional trial dates have been set at 24__th__-26__th__ April; however, these will be liable to change depending on your level of co-operation._

_You are advised to seek legal representation as soon as possible._

_Yours sincerely,_

_David Temple_

_(President of the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain)_

"Will they have been in touch with your parents?" Vlad asked Erin softly.

"I don't know," she admitted. "And I don't care," she added, so savagely that Vlad stared at her.

"Erin-"

"I mean, who do they think they're kidding? '_We regret to inform you…_'? They're bloody delighted!" Erin was pacing now, a sort of manic fury having overtaken her; Vlad could only watch helplessly as she got herself more and more worked up.

"And they're going to '_advise me on legal representation_'? Well, they can bloody well get knotted!" she cried, lashing out at the dresser and knocking a bottle of perfume to the floor. It smashed, and Vlad's sensitive nostrils were overwhelmed with the scent of Chanel; he had bought it for her as a Christmas present, but as far as he could see it had never been used. Erin wasn't really a perfume sort of girl.

Vlad grabbed her around the waist and forced her to sit on the bed, maintaining a cautionary grip on her until he was sure that she had calmed down somewhat; she wasn't doing herself any good by getting angry.

"Look," he said, a little more forcefully than he had intended, "there's nothing we can do now except wait for Tuesday. Hopefully, we'll be able to find out from these delegates exactly what's going on."

"I'm not going to sit around and just wait-"

Vlad was reminded with a jolt of another occasion when she had said those exact words, but he shouted her down, regardless. "When Dad and Ingrid get back, I'll get everyone together and we can talk about this properly. I know Dad's had a few run-ins with the law, and I'll bet my fangs that Bertrand has, too."

"You don't understand, Vlad. Vampire law and slayer law aren't the same. Vampire law's very strict on procedures and protocols; in slayer law, pretty much anything goes." She sighed, looking haggard. "It means that no matter how flaky the evidence, they'll be able to convict me as long as they get the jury on side, which shouldn't be difficult."

It was absurd that he and Erin had only been permitted three hours of contentment before the trials of life had pushed their way back in. Just when things had seemed to be back on track, the slayers had swooped in and thrown a spanner in the works.

"Where are those university forms?" Erin asked Vlad suddenly. He stared, incredulous; she was thinking about that _now_?

"I left them on your dresser," he said. "But surely-"

Erin ignored him, jumping up and snatching at the forms. She hesitated for a moment, before ripping them venomously into quarters.

"Erin!" Now Vlad really was bewildered.

"What?" she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously as she shredded the pieces further. Small fragments fluttered to the floor, like miniscule snowflakes.

"Erin, why-"

"I can't apply to university with a criminal record, Vlad!"

Vlad felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"But surely slayer charges don't count?"

"I don't know! I don't know, but if they do, then that's it! There's no way I'll get a decent job without a degree, not in the current market!"

Vlad didn't take much interest in economics, but he knew that Erin read the newspapers whenever she could, and, from what he gathered, unemployment was at an all-time high. He felt a tingling in the tips of his fingers- he had to get out. He had to get out now.

He almost ran from the room, anger coursing through every vein, every artery, until every single nerve felt as if it was on fire. It was typical, completely and utterly typical; and what was worse, Vlad hadn't been expecting it. Whether it was stupidity or naivety it didn't matter, but the concept of the slayers wanting to punish Erin hadn't even crossed his mind.

He reached his bedroom, and as suddenly as it had arrived, the anger left him, to be replaced by exhaustion and a desperate desire to rest. His brain, sluggish and slow from lack of sleep, felt like a battlefield, his thoughts in conflict, charging at each other, mowing each other down. Vlad couldn't make head or tail of anything.

If the slayers were so keen to punish Erin, then why had they waited three months before making their first move?

One thing was clear; the slayers had a plan, a strategy, and he, Vlad, needed one too. In short, he needed the Count, Bertrand and Ingrid.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again! Thanks for all your follows and favourites :) made my day! As always, your feedback is both greatly appreciated and influential- an early review for 'Redemption' completely re-shaped my idea for the story, so if there's anything you would like to see in 'Repercussions', do not hesitate to say as I do not want to keep writing the same old drivel! Enjoy Chapter 2!_

Chapter 2

"She's been charged with _what_?"

"Espionage," Vlad repeated through gritted teeth, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "It means-"

"I know what it means!"

"The act or practice of spying," he finished determinedly. His family needed to understand the severity of the situation from the outset.

The family in question were gathered around the dining room table, poring over the letter from the Slayers' Guild. Erin herself was standing slightly back, uncertain of whether she should join in or leave them to it. Vlad gave her an encouraging smile which she did not return; he felt a slight pang.

"When did this arrive?" Bertrand asked him.

"I don't remember." Vlad screwed up his face in effort. "Either… the Monday or Tuesday just gone."

"So, really, they've only given us a week to get ourselves sorted," Bertrand concluded; the 23rd was the forthcoming Tuesday.

"It doesn't matter what they've given us, what we've _got_ is three days!" the Count snapped.

"What's the bet these delegates will be Jonno and Mina?" Ingrid remarked darkly.

"They won't be," Erin said tonelessly. "Jonno'll be the expert witness and they'll have Minna as a witness too." They stared at her. She shrugged. "They do have _some_ form of protocol, you know." Vlad didn't miss the iciness in her voice. She'd tried to cover her bruise up with make-up- it hadn't worked. If anything, it drew the eye even more. Vlad noticed that Bertrand couldn't stop glancing at it every few minutes.

"Whoever they are," he ploughed on, "We need a plan. We need to get the facts straight, sort out exactly what we're going to say and when we're going to say it."

"'The truth is never pure and rarely simple'," Wolfie piped up. The Count spluttered.

"Has Miss McCauley been reading you Oscar Wilde again?"

"She says I need culturing," Wolfie said proudly, before returning to his chat with his moth-eaten bear.

"_Look_," Vlad cried desperately, "We need a plan! Dad," he turned to him, looking him straight in the eye, "You must have had some run-ins with the slayers in your time. What's the procedure?"

"How should I know? I always drained them before they could charge me." The Count smirked, and Vlad scowled before turning to Bertrand.

"Bertrand?"

"Ditto, I'm afraid," the tutor replied lazily.

"Er- why is no-one asking me?" Ingrid broke in. "Everyone knows I'm Queen of Chaos."

"I thought it was Darkness?" Erin shot back.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Vlad roared, and everyone flinched. "We've got three days- three bloody days to get this sorted and not one of you is being the slightest bit helpful!"

The room fell deathly silent. The Count looked cowed; Bertrand, sullen; even Ingrid looked uncomfortable. Only Erin was unperturbed- she traced the scratches in the table with her finger, moodiness emanating from her like a toxic cloud. Vlad felt a wave of irritation- they were trying to _help_ her.

"What do you think, Erin?" he asked her eventually, breaking the tension in the room. He endeavoured to keep the bite out of his voice. "You're awfully quiet."

She lifted her head, her eyes boring into his.

"I don't know," she told him, her voice carefully controlled.

"Why can't she tell us everything she knows about slayer law?" the Count suggested to Vlad.

"_She_ is in this room. Why don't you ask her yourself?" Erin snarled, and there was another shocked silence. She had never spoken to the Count like that before.

Vlad saw his father drawing himself up, and he tugged on Erin's arm.

"Back in a minute," he told them firmly, before dragging his girlfriend from the room.

As soon as the dining room door was shut, he rounded on her.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

"What?" she snapped, the blood rushing to her face. "He's treated me like dirt for months; it's time he learnt to take what he gives out!"

Vlad couldn't understand it. Erin could be moody, sure, but she was never rude, especially not to a member of Vlad's family. She must be more shaken up by this whole debacle than she was letting on.

"You've got to talk to me, Erin," he told her gently, his hand reaching up to stroke her hair; she pushed it away, and he grabbed her wrist. He saw her eyes widen, and he released her immediately; he'd forgotten about her injury.

"Sorry," he muttered. Erin didn't look at him- she was fiddling with her bandage, smoothing out the creases, wincing slightly all the while. Vlad mentally cursed himself; this wasn't getting them anywhere.

"Do you want to come back in?" he asked her softly. She still wasn't looking at him, but Vlad resisted the urge to lift her chin- she was obviously determined to be stubborn today, and he wasn't going to feed the fire. By way of an answer, she pushed past him, back into the dining room. Vlad very nearly punched the wooden wall panelling- girls could be so confusing.

* * *

"So, if we think about this logically, there is only a very small time-frame in which Erin could be accused of espionage," Bertrand said, underlining the dates in the letter. "It says here that the slayers are charging her '_owing to the events that took place between 9__th__ October and 29__th__ November_'. Well, if I remember, she only turned against them when they asked her to slay Ryan."

They all thought back. That was the day before they had slain Sethius- thus, Erin had only been a double-agent for about 19 hours. It wasn't exactly denying the crime, but it certainly lessened the severity of it.

"Erin," Vlad turned to her, praying that she would be co-operative, "You need to tell us exactly what happened between then and when we ashed Sethius."

Erin gave a very audible sigh from her place on the sofa, then straightened up, seemingly resigning herself to Vlad's request. Bertrand brought out a sheet of paper and an ink-pen; Erin gave them a wary glance, before swallowing and beginning her account of the entire messy business.

She told them everything- from the lie-detector test she had been forced to take, to her tour of the weapons' store, to her encounter with Ryan. She explained how she had saved him, including the trick of the fake dust-pile, then how he had turned against her and how she had been forced to travel to Garside to warn Vlad. Vlad cringed when he remembered that conversation- he had acted like a child.

She described the Count and Vlad's destruction of the super-weapon, reminding them of how she had saved their lives and of their confrontation with Jonno, before she stopped, her voice slightly hoarse.

"You know the rest," she mumbled.

"We need it from your point of view, though," Vlad reminded her. Erin rolled her eyes- Vlad grinned.

She chronicled Ingrid's betrayal before hurrying over Bertrand's kidnap, her face flushing as she stared at the threadbare rug, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt with such ferocity that the crease began to spread towards the chest pockets. She concluded with a rather understated recollection of Sethius' antics, detailing how both the vampires and the slayers had worked together in order to defeat him. Bertrand's spiky hand-writing had covered almost five sides by now- Vlad marvelled at the sheer amount of action that had taken place in just 19 hours.

"Great," he said, sitting down beside Erin and bravely kissing her hair. His heart soared as she didn't flinch. "Dad, I'm putting you on lawyer duty, is that ok?"

"I'll do that," Bertrand cut in, standing up. "A friend of mine's had a couple of dealings with the slayer court in the past- knows a guy who's very discreet."

"As long as he's cheap," Vlad told him firmly. The last thing they needed was to bankrupt themselves.

"Well, I'm sure you and Erin can hold a school cake sale to raise the funds," Ingrid remarked acidly. Vlad bit back his cutting response- she was just irritated that the attention hadn't been on her for the past half-hour. He picked up the notes from the table.

"I'll take these," he said to no-one in particular.

"What's my job, Vladdy?" The Count asked him. Vlad hesitated for a second, before inspiration hit him.

"You can research the slayer court of law in the library. _Our_ library," he added, as Erin opened her mouth.

His father looked slightly disgruntled at the desk-job, but sped off all the same. No doubt he would get bored within five minutes and start pestering Renfield for vintage blood.

Now only Ingrid was left. Vlad wasn't sure whether he wanted her involved.

"Do you want a job?" he asked her cautiously. She laughed humourlessly.

"I'm sure you're going to give me one whether I want one or not."

"And since when have you ever done what I say?"

The siblings glowered at each other, before Vlad conceded; he didn't have the energy or the patience right now to fight with her.

"Fine," he said wearily, "Do what you want." He turned away.

"Maybe I'll prep Erin," Ingrid called after him. Erin looked startled. Vlad paused, still facing away from his sister.

"Prep?"

"She needs to come over well if they're going to give her a lesser sentence."

"I don't want her to get a lesser sentence; I want her to get off."

"Be that as it may, she'll still need to come over well."

Vlad was suspicious. "And what exactly will this 'prep' entail?"

Ingrid smirked. "Clothes, hair, make-up; general appearance management. And I'll teach her how to hold herself properly and project her voice as well. She'll give a confident defence that way."

To Vlad, it sounded like a great idea. But he was still wary of Ingrid; she hadn't yet given him a reason to trust her.

"And why would you do that?"

Ingrid shrugged. "It's nice having a girl around," she said eventually.

Vlad grinned in spite of himself- Ingrid really wasn't as bloodthirsty as she made out.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 3

Sunday passed quietly. Erin made the phone-call to her old headmistress, explaining that her family had suddenly had to relocate to the North and wouldn't be back anytime in the foreseeable future. After a good deal of "Right" and "Mmm" and "Of course, yeah", it was arranged that Erin's car would be dropped off the following evening, when any outstanding payments would be settled. Erin sighed as she put the phone down.

"So that's _another_ lot of money I've got to shell out," she complained, while Vlad did his best to look sympathetic, though inside he was cheering: _Erin's back for good! Erin's back for good!_

"You'd better catch me up with the History and English I've missed- Lord knows who I'll get the Biology and Psychology stuff from."

"We'll get it sorted," he reassured her. Right now there were more important things to worry about.

"Perhaps I ought to go and see Miss McCauley…"

"No," Vlad said, a little too quickly. Erin stared at him. "She won't be in on a Sunday," he reasoned lamely. Erin narrowed her eyes.

"What is it, Vlad?"

He hesitated. He didn't want to rush her, but she'd been so on edge since they'd got back- she needed to relax.

"Do you maybe- you know- want to go into town? Nothing major, just- just spending some time together. Might take your mind off things," he added hopefully.

"I can't, Vlad," Erin said briskly, not quite meeting his eyes, "I need to be completely caught up by tomorrow."

"But-"

"Will your notes be in your bag? I'll just get them out, shall I?"

"Erin-"

"See you later."

Vlad recognised that he was defeated, and moved in to kiss her goodbye. She moved her head so that his lips met her cheek; Vlad felt another pang. He watched her as she walked away. She was still uncomfortable around him and he hated it. It was like she couldn't stand to be alone in his presence- but it wasn't fear. He could tell that she wasn't afraid of him. It was more- dare he say it- contempt? Had she really fallen out of love with him? And if she had, why had she agreed to come back with them- because she had nowhere else to go? But then she had been settled back in her old school. It just didn't make any sense.

Vlad needed to find a way to reach her. He'd done a terrible thing, and, just when he thought they'd started to move on from it, this whole espionage farce had forced her to close herself off again. She needed to learn to trust him. Vlad smiled dryly: he needed to learn to trust himself.

* * *

Monday morning dawned bright and clear. The sky was so pale that it was more grey than blue, and a bracing breeze skinned the backs of hands and reddened exposed noses and cheeks. Erin had already breakfasted by the time Vlad arrived in the dining room; she had left him a note, telling him that she had an appointment with Miss McCauley and that she'd see him in their double free after break. Vlad screwed up the note in irritation- they could've spoken to the headmistress together. Erin was deliberately avoiding him, he was sure of it.

During breakfast, Wolfie upset the jug of fruit juice, drenching Vlad, who was sat next to him, in the process and dying part of his school shirt a vivid shade of orange. Cursing under his breath, Vlad sped back to his room, only to find another note from Erin telling him that all her shirts were in the wash and that she'd borrowed his last clean one. The stained shirt was starting to stick to Vlad's skin and he ripped it off, pulling on his PE Air-Tex instead; it would have to do, and if it didn't, tough.

He marched out of his room, snatching up his overflowing school bag and making his way to his form-room. He quickly scanned it for Erin, but he couldn't spot her- she must still be in her meeting. Ignoring the giggles from the rest of the class at his attire, he flung himself down behind his desk, lifting the lid and inhaling the soothing scent of wood and old books. He had Maths first thing- he needed to have his wits about him.

The lesson passed in a frantic scribbling of mechanical equations and complicated algebra. As the exams loomed ever closer, Vlad was beginning to feel that familiar twinge of panic as he realised how diabolical his trigonometry actually was. He would have to get Renfield to explain it to him when he got a minute. As soon as the bell rang for break, Vlad shoved his belongings back into his bag and charged off in search of Erin. He found her within minutes, stood outside of the Psychology classroom in conversation with the woman he assumed was the subject teacher. He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and letting his bag slip off his shoulder to the floor. Erin jumped violently, the top of her head nearly knocking into his chin, before she relaxed into his touch. Vlad breathed a mental sigh of relief; she appeared to be in an easier mood today.

"Do you think you'll be able to get it finished for me by Wednesday?" the teacher asked Erin. Vlad presumed they were discussing homework.

"All of it?" There was an ill-disguised note of incredulity in Erin's voice. The teacher nodded. Erin ran her hand through her hair. "I'll try my hardest, Miss Chandra, but-"

"We've got some very important visitors coming tomorrow," Vlad put in, hoping to try and ease Erin's work-load. All he received in thanks was a dig in the ribs.

"I'd really like it for Wednesday," Miss Chandra said, in an if-I-don't-get-it-they'll-be-hell-to-pay voice.

"Oh, God," Erin exhaled as the teacher walked away. She twisted in Vlad's grip and buried her head in his chest. Vlad felt a shock of electricity shoot through his body to his groin; he shifted, his arms still clutching Erin to him tightly. To hell with the goggling Year Sevens- he was going to savour this rare moment of intimacy.

"It's alright," he whispered soothingly, "Don't worry. If you can't get it done, we'll just get Dad to speak to Miss McCauley." Something clicked in his brain. "Speaking of Miss McCauley, how did your meeting go?"

"As well as could be expected," she muttered into his polo shirt. "I told her it was urgent family stuff, but she just went on about taking AS-levels seriously and UCAS applications and blah blah blah."

Vlad could tell that the headmistress' words had hurt Erin. She always worked hard, and she knew how important the summer exams were- it was just unfortunate that she'd been forced to miss two weeks because of Vlad's lack of self-control. The old feeling of guilt was re-surfacing, but Vlad pushed it away; right now, this was about Erin.

"Don't worry," he repeated, trailing his hand up Erin's back. He tangled it in her hair, grinning when he realised she'd forgotten to brush it this morning.

Erin pushed him away suddenly; Vlad nearly groaned out loud at the loss of contact.

"I'm going to make a start on this Psychology in my free," she told him, folding up the piece of paper she was holding and pushing it haphazardly into her bag.

"_Our_ free," Vlad reminded her.

"Whatever. I'll be in the ICT suite if you want me."

"I'll help you," Vlad offered. His Maths homework could wait.

"No, I'll only get distracted if you're there. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

She didn't even wait for a reply. Swinging her bag onto her shoulder, she practically ran down the corridor in the direction of the computer rooms. Vlad started after her, before checking himself and making his way to the sixth-form common room instead. He had decided not to push himself onto her- he was positive that she'd come to him when she was ready. Until then, he would just have to be as supportive as he could and wait it out.

* * *

Erin's car was delivered without incident. She wouldn't tell Vlad how much it had cost.

"Enough," was all she said when he asked her.

Perhaps it was money worries that were making her so hot and cold. Being a ward of the Count (in Miss McCauley's eyes, at least), she was, along with Vlad and Ingrid, exempt from school fees. She didn't pay rent, or contribute to the house-keeping; she had offered, of course, on numerous occasions, but Vlad had always insisted that she was one of the family now. That tended to bring snorts from the rest of the clan. He supposed she could be worrying about university fees, but that wasn't very like Erin. She wasn't a worrier, certainly not about something like money.

He considered asking her outright what was up, but he winced at the thought of the reaction he would get: indignation, denial and defensiveness, most likely.

But he couldn't keep mulling over this. She was just nervous about tomorrow, that was all- once the delegates had told them exactly what was going on and Vlad had set the record straight, everything would go back to normal.

It would. It had to.

As if to convince himself, Vlad was as bright and as cheery as possible that evening. He played with Wolfie, joked with the Count, and even entered into some friendly banter with Bertrand. Ingrid looked on from the side-lines, utterly bored by the proceedings. Whenever Vlad glanced at Erin, she either looked like she was about to cry or like she was about to throw something. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

"How's it coming with that lawyer?" Vlad asked Bertrand quietly, after Erin had excused herself and gone up to bed.

"Oh, alright," his tutor said airily, gesticulating wildly with his glass of blood in a rather alarming way. "I'm still working on getting the price down at the moment; he's trying to rip us off, if you ask me."

"Well, should we use someone else?"

"No, no- leave it to me. I'll get it sorted one way or another."

Unsurprisingly, that did nothing to ease Vlad's anxiety, and he got into his coffin half an hour later with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. At least, this time tomorrow, they would know exactly what was going on.

To be honest, though, to Vlad, it was a small comfort.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Has anyone seen the full-length trailer for the fourth series? Apparently it came out on Saturday. I don't often watch CBBC so I haven't seen it yet, but it's supposed to be excellent. I'm getting very excited for next week now!_


	4. Chapter 4

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 4

It wasn't until three o'clock in the afternoon that the delegates from the Slayers' Guild arrived. Erin had received a fax the previous evening, telling her to expect them at any point during the day, and so for eight hours the entire family had been on edge.

It was during Vlad and Erin's final period. Miss McCauley knocked on the door of the English lesson and had a whispered conversation with their teacher; Vlad glanced at Erin, who blanched. They both knew instinctively that the slayers had arrived.

"Vlad, Erin," Miss McCauley said sharply. They both looked up, willing their faces to remain blank. "You are to go upstairs immediately. Mr Count has had two important visitors that apparently cannot wait half an hour until the end of the day."

They feigned surprise, before frantically stuffing their books back into their bags and pushing past Miss McCauley into the deserted corridor. They fought not to run as they made their way up the passage, Vlad aching to take Erin's hand to let her know that she had his support no matter what.

They burst into the dining room five minutes later, Erin slightly out of breath, before flinging their schoolbags onto the sofa and looking around. Erin quickly smoothed down her hair; Vlad straightened his tie.

The delegates were seated at the dining room table, a variety of official-looking documents spread in front of them. The elder of the two, a grey-haired, suited woman bedecked with costume jewellery, scrutinised Erin with distaste, her lip visibly curling as Vlad placed his arm protectively around his girlfriend's shoulders. The other, a man in his mid-twenties, eyed Erin with interest; Vlad didn't miss his smirk as his gaze settled on Erin's bruise, now a nasty shade of green. His arm tightened.

The Count was sat on his throne, perfectly still except for the twitching muscle in his cheek. Bertrand was standing by the window, evidently endeavouring to seem disinterested, but Vlad could see his keen eyes straining to read the miniscule print covering the documents.

Only Ingrid seemed relaxed. She was lolling in one of the dining room chairs, casually picking at her nail-varnish, not so much as glancing at the strangers sitting across from her. Vlad, however, could see the way the sinew in her neck tensed at every small movement that the slayers made; she was coiled and alert, ready to pounce should she need to.

Vlad cleared his throat. No-one took any notice of him; they only had eyes for Erin. She flushed under the intensity of their gaze, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and tugging anxiously on the hem of her grey school jumper.

"Sit down, Miss Noble," the female slayer said coldly. Erin swallowed, before perching tensely on the edge of the chair the furthest away from her. The Count looked visibly affronted at having orders being given in his own house.

"Don't you think you should hand over your weapons?" he asked them rudely.

"We are unarmed," the female said, her voice now so cold it was glacial. "We are as committed to the Truce as you are."

Bertrand gave a barely stifled snort; Vlad shot him a warning look.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" He addressed the delegates politely, in an effort to diffuse the tension- once again, he was completely ignored.

"You are Erin Francesca Noble?" the woman asked Erin.

"Yes," she replied in a small voice.

"Daughter of Jeremy Oscar Noble and Francesca Cecily Noble née Cartwright?"

"Yes."

"Sister of the late Ryan Jeremy Noble?"

"Late?" Vlad asked, puzzled. Ingrid gave him a withering look.

"When a slayer is turned they are officially classed as dead," she told him. Vlad felt a hot swoop of anger.

"Yes, I am," Erin answered, throwing her head back defiantly, and Vlad's anger was suddenly extinguished.

"I am Angela Byrne and this is my PA, Thomas Golding."

"How do you do?" the young man said, reaching over the table to offer his hand to Erin. She shook it warily, letting go as soon as politeness would allow- Vlad smirked.

"To business," Angela said firmly. The whole room tensed again. Her voice took on a rehearsed, learned-by-heart feel. "We have been dispatched here to Garside Grange Independent Day School, Lancashire, in order to verbally inform you, Erin Francesca Noble, of the charge of espionage that the Slayers' Guild has brought against you. You have received written confirmation of the charge?" she asked sharply.

"Of course she did, else I would be asking what two filthy little slayers were doing in my dining room," the Count growled. Bertrand laughed sycophantically; Vlad glared at them both. Why were they incapable of behaving themselves?

Angela ignored them, her gaze trained on Erin, who nodded in answer. Thomas made a quick note on one of the documents.

"It said in the letter that you were going to advise me on legal representation," Erin ventured, her voice quavering slightly with nervousness. Vlad sat down beside her, slipping his hand onto her thigh. She pushed it away.

"That is no concern of the Guild's," Angela replied carelessly. "Legal representation is your responsibility."

"But-"

"We've sorted it already," Vlad interjected, twitching his eyebrows slightly at Thomas. He didn't like the way the man's eyes kept flicking to Erin's chest.

"Oh?" the elder slayer questioned, her own eyebrows rising. "May I ask who-?"

"No," Bertrand said aggressively. Thomas turned to face him, smiling pleasantly.

"There's no need to be quite so stand-offish, old man."

Vlad felt a strong desire to punch the smile off his face.

"You'll find out at the trial," he told him fiercely. Thomas twisted back round; the smile was still there, but his eyes were cold, almost calculating as they swept Vlad up and down. Suddenly, Vlad felt very foolish and unimposing sat there in his school uniform. He wished he'd had the chance to change into his leathers.

"So if you're not here to advise her on legal representation, what are you here for?" Ingrid asked in a bored voice. She had placed her feet on the table, her immaculately polished boots gleaming in the candlelight.

"We are here to inform Miss Noble about the format of the trial and the nature of her conviction."

"Charge," four voices snarled. Erin remained silent, her face impassive. Vlad felt his concern increase as he looked at her; her eyes were completely dead, entirely void of emotion or spark. Was she simply putting on a front for the slayers?

"Charge," Angela corrected grudgingly, though she shot Erin a particularly nasty look. "I presume you are aware of what a conviction of espionage incurs?"

Erin's leg twitched violently. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I'm not," Vlad announced loudly. Thomas let out a loud guffaw. "Something funny?" he demanded heatedly.

"Sorry," Thomas said, not looking sorry at all. He made another few notes on the documents, chuckling every so often. Vlad was now so fed up with him that he was close to showing him the door.

"Can we just get on with it?" the Count asked irritably. He was taking no prisoners this afternoon.

"Capital suggestion," Thomas replied, shuffling his notes in what he seemed to think was a most business-like fashion. "The crux of the matter is-"

Angela cleared her throat forcefully, and Thomas fell silent. Vlad grinned.

"The crux of the matter is," Angela continued calmly, "that Miss Noble has been charged with espionage against the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain. She will face the court of law over a three-day trial between the 24th and 26th April, where, after hearing the cases of both the defence and the prosecution, a jury will decide whether she is guilty or innocent. This jury will be made up of members of the Guild," she added, as she saw Vlad open his mouth. He spluttered in indignation.

"How do you expect her to be given a fair trial when the people who are trying her are those who she supposedly spied on?"

"It matters not who the jury are," Angela began dismissively, "Justice will out-"

"Whose definition of justice though?" Ingrid shot back, and the slayer fell silent.

"Will any of us be called as witnesses?" Bertrand asked after a pause.

"It has not yet been decided."

Vlad felt his anxiety intensify ten-fold- what if he was called for the prosecution? He couldn't testify against Erin. Not even if they held a stake to his throat, he couldn't.

The grandfather clock struck four. The slayers immediately checked their watches, before beginning to pack away their documents. Vlad was shocked; he hadn't expected the meeting to be over that quickly.

"That's it?" he asked them. Once again, they completely ignored him. After locking their briefcases, they straightened up, appraising Erin coldly before nodding stiffly at the Count and walking swiftly towards the door.

"You'll be hearing from us, Miss Noble," the female slayer called over her shoulder.

A nasty silence followed, punctuated only by the sound of Angela's heels click-clacking down the stairs. Vlad glanced around; everyone looked slightly shaken. No-one spoke for a moment, until Ingrid remarked that the woman had been a cow. As if taking that as their cue, everyone gradually began to disperse, muttering excuses about being thirsty or needing to catch up with some reading.

Everyone except Erin. She looked more desolate than Vlad had ever seen her. Vlad was desperate to reach out her, to reassure her that everything was going to be ok; but was it? He just didn't know. He didn't trust the slayers as far as he could spit, and that Thomas- there was something sinister about him. The way he'd looked at Erin- as if she was meat on a slab- had made Vlad's blood boil. He had been dangerously close to giving in to his Dark Side and letting Bad Vlad give the man a good kicking.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to AlucardGnuoy and .Socks for giving me the link to the new trailer- it looks brilliant! Erin wasn't in it very much though :( I hope she and Vlad stay together. Vlerin all the way!_


	5. Chapter 5

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: A longer chapter- I didn't know whether to do two short or one long but I went with one long in the end._

Chapter 5

_Thursday 26__th__ March_

_Dear Erin,_

_We're not going to beat around the bush here. You know that's not our way. We're going to tell you straight off how disappointed we are in you. Your father has to face the most senior Guild members every day at work, and it's been incredibly difficult for him to carry on like normal when the entire workforce is buzzing with what has been dubbed 'the Noble scandal'._

_You've acted incredibly selfishly, and you've put us in an impossible position. By slayer law, your father should be the judge presiding over your trial- that task has now been assigned to his deputy. As for your mother, she is forced to endure endless phone-calls, texts, letters and emails asking, "Where did it all go wrong? The son, a half-fang; the daughter, a spy and a traitor". It does not make easy reading._

_So, Erin, we've decided to direct that question to you- where __did__ it all go wrong? You grew up in a loving household, with plenty of money and a good education behind you. You achieved 5 A*s and 6 As at GCSE, despite your dyslexia, and we were all set for 3 A*s at A-level and entry into Oxford or Cambridge. Neither of us can recall a time when we pressurised you or forced you into anything- you participated in a wide range of extra-curricular activities in addition to your academic studies, ranging from tennis to fencing, and we were so sure that you were going to make us proud._

_Then Ryan let us down, despite our warnings about staying out late with his friends, and we had no choice but to abandon him and focus all of our attention on you. You were __never__ second-best, Erin, but now we really could concentrate on giving you the dazzling future we had planned for you. After university, you were to enter into a senior position in the Guild, and work your way up until you had reached a level of seniority unattainable for most members._

_And then you threw it all away. You ran after your half-fang brother, spouting all that rubbish about wiping out the bloodline that had infected him, and the next thing we knew he was a fully-fledged vampire and you were living with the Draculas. Rumour has it that you're in a relationship with the Chosen One- is that in deliberate defiance of everything we've brought you up to believe? Do you really despise us that much that you feel compelled to shame us so completely?_

_It's a poor repayment, Erin, and we don't mind admitting it. It's excruciatingly painful for us to have to explain over and over again about the situation you're in, wondering if it's our fault, wondering if we somehow drove you to it. Did we? You tell us._

_We'll see you at the trial._

_Mum and Dad_

* * *

Erin hadn't wanted to discuss the letter. She had left it on Vlad's dresser for him to read, before replacing it in its envelope and throwing it onto the fire in the dining room. She had sat on the hearth rug for about half an hour, watching it curl into black fronds before, gradually, it had disintegrated into ash.

That night neither Vlad nor Erin slept. Vlad lay in his coffin till the early hours of the morning, the unsettling melody of The Beatles' _Eleanor Rigby_ mingled with the rhythmical patter of Erin's footsteps as she paced up and down her room seeping through the walls. At quarter past four, he gave up. Pulling on his dressing gown, more out of habit than because he felt the cold, he crept surreptitiously along the corridor to Erin's room. Without bothering to knock, he gently pushed the door open.

Erin was still in her school uniform- she hadn't even tried to sleep. She had given up pacing now, and was sat on the floor, her back resting against the damp, musty wallpaper. Her eyes were closed as she let the music wash over her, her fingers twitching slightly every so often. Vlad hadn't seen her so peaceful in a long time.

"Hey," he whispered, so as not to startle her. Her eyes snapped open; she hesitated for a moment, before nodding at Vlad to come in. He obliged, wincing at the unhelpfully loud creak of the hinges as he pulled the door to. He settled down beside her, taking one of her hands in both of his. It was like ice.

"What's all this about, then, eh?" he asked, tugging on her hand slightly to encourage her to rest her weight on him. Her head flopped onto his shoulder and she snuggled into him for warmth; however, Vlad could still feel the tension in her muscles. He tentatively placed a hand on her lower back and she jumped- he hastily removed it.

"I'm sorry," Erin whispered. She still hadn't relaxed.

"Don't be stupid," he told her. "You don't have to apologise to me for anything."

"I've been in such a mood recently," she mumbled regretfully. Vlad privately agreed with her, but he wasn't going to ruin this for the sake of an apology; she was going through enough at the moment to be entitled to a few moods.

"Don't worry," he whispered, taking a chance and reaching a hand up to stroke her hair. She sighed contentedly, and Vlad gave a silent cheer. "I'm used to it," he teased, and she laughed.

She hadn't laughed in days.

They sat like that for a while, sometimes talking, sometimes not. It was bliss to simply enjoy each other's company without the fear of being disturbed. They didn't talk about the trial- every time Vlad mentioned it, Erin clammed up. He let it go every time, but he knew sooner or later he'd have to force her to open up to him. This silence was destructive, not only for Erin but for him, too. He missed the lightness and the jokes, the laughter and the banter they had enjoyed before everything had changed. He still didn't understand why the slayers had waited so long before charging Erin. He knew there was reason- there always was when slayers were involved- but he couldn't for the life of him think what it was. He supposed he ought to have asked the delegates on Tuesday, but that afternoon he had been concentrating on restraining himself more than anything else.

The alarm rang shrilly at seven. Groaning, Vlad pushed himself off the floor, shaking out his stiff limbs before pulling Erin up beside him. Their eyes met for a moment, and Vlad suddenly felt light-headed as he lost himself in Erin's blue depths. They smiled at each other awkwardly- before Erin blinked, and the moment was gone.

"I'd better get changed," she mumbled sleepily, yawning widely.

"Take the day off," Vlad suggested. It would do her good to get her head down for a few hours.

To his surprise, Erin giggled. "If I took the day off every time you told me to Miss McCauley would have a fit."

Vlad grinned. "I should think she's had more than enough fits over us in the last few months." Feeling slightly reckless due to lack of sleep, he leaned in and kissed her. It was short and chaste, a simple meeting of lips, but Vlad hadn't been this intimate with her in almost a month, and the sensation sent shockwaves to his brain.

Erin pulled back. She was smiling, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she caught Vlad's eye and looked away, embarrassed.

"It's nearly breakfast," she whispered. Vlad squeezed her fingers gently, before practically skipping back down the corridor to his own room. He hadn't felt this positive for weeks; finally, he and Erin were making some headway.

* * *

"So- I don't care if you spied on them. I don't care if you didn't. The only thing I care about is whether I'm going to get paid at the end of this. Am I going to get paid?"

Vlad gave Bertrand an accusatory stare. "This was the best you could do?" he hissed.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Vlad, Bertrand and Erin were sat in the office of Bryant and Co. Solicitors, an underground firm who specialised in the representation of both breathers and vampires in the slayer court of law. The office was small and dingy, with very little light breaking through the bars on the grimy windows. The overhead strip lighting was so fierce that it made even Erin look gothic, and the armchairs in which they were sat had stuffing spilling out of the sides. Coffee rings and soup stains covered the desk, while the overflowing filing cabinets threatened to bury them under a cascade of out-of-date paperwork. The computer hummed incessantly; a fly, trapped between the window pane and the blind, buzzed frantically.

Bryant himself, in contrast, was a clean, well-shaven man of about forty-five. While he wasn't good-looking, he gave off an aura of authority that was hard to ignore. He was dressed smartly, and his considerable height made him all the more imposing.

He spoke bluntly, but not unkindly; Vlad supposed he was accustomed to being direct in his line of work. Drawing himself up slightly, in an effort to seem superfluous to the man's authority, Vlad addressed him coolly.

"Of course you will be paid, if we are satisfied with your services."

Erin gave a little squeak of shock at Vlad's words; he was obviously intending to play hard-ball. Bryant, however, chuckled.

"In for the kill," he commented appreciatively, "I like that. If you're out of a job, sonny, I'm sure you'd fit right in here."

"I'm not interested." Vlad had decided against revealing his identity to the lawyer- he didn't want to overcomplicate things.

"Suit yourself," Bryant said, "but we could do with a couple of sparky young lads like you. You've got my number if you change your mind. Anyway," he continued briskly, "to business. I've studied all the paperwork young Bertrand here forwarded to my secretary, and, in my professional opinion, your prospects aren't looking too bleak at present. I'm still in the process of finding a loop-hole in the charge, but I know slayer law inside out, and if there is a loop-hole, I'll find it, you can be sure of that."

Vlad heard Erin exhale sharply next to him. This was good news.

"All we need now is to get your story straight."

"How do you mean?" Vlad asked, puzzled. As far as he knew they'd given the firm all the information they had.

"There's no pizazz, no spark," Bryant said, nearly knocking his mug of tea off of the desk as he gesticulated wildly. "We need something that's going to shake the jury up, that's really going to make them up sit up and listen to your defence." He turned to address Erin. "Have you had a turbulent past? Any family tragedies that we can work to our advantage?" he asked her keenly. She stared at him, incredulous.

Vlad was outraged.

"This is Erin's freedom we're talking about here, not a film script!" he cried angrily. He wasn't going to let the lawyer mess with Erin's story and make her a laughing stock while she was in the dock. The whole tale was elaborate enough as it was.

"I think Mr Bryant knows what he's talking about, Vlad," Bertrand interjected lightly, though Vlad detected the note of caution in his voice. He ignored it.

"All he cares about is whether he gets his money, he's admitted it! We need someone who's going to take this seriously."

"And I _am_ going to take it seriously, Mr Count," Bryant said smoothly, brushing a piece of imaginary lint from the shoulder of his jacket, "if you accept that you're not the Chosen One whilst you're in my office."

So he knew. Vlad supposed it must have been obvious; his photograph appeared in the Vampire Times most days, if only in the crossword.

"Well, how do we know we can trust you?" he demanded suspiciously. "You're a breather."

"Which makes me objective," Bryant reasoned calmly. "I am neither a vampire nor a slayer; therefore, I can present the case accurately with an unbiased view of the facts. I'm an expert, Mr Count- you can take it or leave it."

To Vlad, gaining Bryant's representation sounded like the most rational thing that had been done since this fiasco had begun, but he wasn't one to give in easily. He wanted to make absolutely sure that the lawyer wasn't stringing them along.

"We've got two weeks till the trial," he said finally. "My sister's prepping Erin for it but we're not quite sure what to expect. If you can help us to defeat the Guild, then I'll double the fee Erin's paying you. If, however, they find her guilty, you get nothing. Take it or leave it," he repeated coldly.

There was an uneasy silence. Vlad and Bryant eyeballed each other, each trying to detect a weakness in the other. Before they had the chance to speak, however, Erin stood up, her eyes flaming.

"You all seem to be labouring under the impression that I am incapable of coping with this by myself," she said, her voice shaking with supressed rage as she looked at each of the men in turn. "Well, I'm not. If you're going to treat me like some pawn in your stupid macho games then I'll do this alone."

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that stacks of lever-arch files toppled off the lawyer's desk and broke open on the carpet. Case notes spilled everywhere. Cursing, Bryant and Bertrand scrabbled around, trying to re-order the papers, while Vlad charged off after Erin. She really was pushing her luck at the moment- how did she expect anyone to help her when she behaved so appallingly?

Vlad ran through the silent corridors, his ears and eyes pricked and alert for any sign of his girlfriend. He turned a corner- then stopped as an awful thought occurred to him. Perhaps Erin didn't want anyone to help her? Perhaps, after everything she'd been through, she had finally given up?

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 6

"Leave me alone, Vlad. I don't want to talk."

It hadn't taken Vlad long to find Erin. She was sitting in a deserted corridor, her back resting against the wall and her knees hunched up to her chest. He ignored her declaration, crouching down in front of her and looking at her sternly. She refused to meet his gaze, so he grabbed her chin, none to gently, and forced her to look at him. She wrenched her face out of his grip.

"Don't touch me," she spat. Vlad dropped his hand, but didn't move away.

"This has to stop, Erin," he told her quietly. "You can't go on treating people like this."

"_I_ can't go on treating people like this?" she asked disbelievingly, her voice rising in indignation. "It's you three who are acting like I can't do anything for myself!"

"Can you blame us when you behave like this?"

Erin's eyes narrowed; if she had been a vampire, they would have darkened to the deepest black.

"Don't go all high-and-mighty on me, Vlad, I'm warning you," she said dangerously.

Vlad was unperturbed. "You can't keep pushing us away else no-one's going to want to help you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Vlad could practically see the sparks flying.

"Don't be so melodramatic. It just means that we're all trying to help you but you're not making it very easy."

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry," Erin hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I forgot how difficult this must be for _you_. I mean, _I'm_ the one who's going to be fighting for my freedom, but you- you've had to suffer slayers cluttering up the dining room."

"See! This is exactly what I mean!" Vlad cried in exasperation. "You need to stop attacking me all the time- I'm sick of it!"

Erin glared at him for a moment, before, much to Vlad's surprise, her face crumpled and she burst into tears. She put her head down on her knees in an attempt to muffle her sobs, but Vlad could still see the way they wracked her small frame. He was lost- he hadn't expected this. Erin never normally cried when they argued; she was much too proud. He wasn't sure how to console her.

"Don't cry," he told her awkwardly. She ignored him- he couldn't blame her.

"What's going on?" Vlad whipped around, seeing Bertrand giving them a strange look from the corner of the corridor. He groaned inwardly- the smug tutor was the last thing he needed right now. He looked around desperately for inspiration, his gaze coming to rest on the First Aid Kit that was attached to the wall.

"Erin felt dizzy so I told her to put her head between her legs," he announced loudly.

Bertrand looked unconvinced. "Bryant's anxious to get on," he said. "He's got other clients to see, you know."

"We'll be along in a minute," Vlad said firmly. Bertrand gave him a look that plainly told him to get his act together, before walking back towards the office. Vlad waited until the sound of his boots had faded before turning back to his girlfriend. She had calmed down somewhat, but she was still hiding her face.

"I wasn't having a go at you, Erin," he whispered sympathetically. "Well, I was, but- I was just frustrated, that's all. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's not you," Erin mumbled. Even with Vlad's sensitive hearing, he had to strain to catch her words.

"Well, what's up, then?" he asked her helplessly. There was a slight pause, before Erin lifted her head and addressed the Fire Evacuation Procedure that was hung on the wall.

"I'm scared."

Vlad felt his heart melt as he looked at her. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were creased- she looked utterly woe begotten.

"About the trial?"

Vlad could have sworn that she hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding.

"Why are you scared?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

Vlad paused, before nodding in agreement. Yes, he would be scared, especially if he knew he was facing a biased jury.

"But Bryant said that your prospects weren't looking too bleak," he reminded her.

Erin snorted. "Bryant," she said contemptuously. "What does he know?"

"A damn sight more than the rest of us," Vlad told her determinedly. "He knows how to work the court to his advantage."

Erin sighed. "I just wish all this had never happened."

Vlad felt as if he had been doused with cold water. "All of it?" he queried, trying to keep his voice casual. Erin met his eyes for the first time.

"No," she said quietly. "Not all of it." She paused for a moment. "I feel happy at Garside, Vlad. At home, I was always on edge. If Mum wasn't in a foul mood over something petty then Dad was disappointed with something Ryan or I had done. There were good times, too, of course, but it was exhausting having to remember which one of them you could approach without getting shouted at."

Vlad didn't say anything. Erin had never spoken about her home life before. He took her hand and began to trace patterns on the back of it, hoping to soothe her.

"When Ryan was bitten it got worse. Mum and Dad were at each other's throats all the time and they wouldn't let Ryan carry on living with us. That was when I left. I think, even if Ryan hadn't been bitten, I'd have gotten out of there pretty soon. Having all those expectations placed on you- it was stifling."

Vlad nodded. He knew exactly how that felt.

"You don't exactly have an easy time of it with us, though," he reminded her. To his surprise, she laughed.

"No, I suppose I don't," she admitted. She grabbed his other hand, bringing both of them up to her mouth and placing gentle kisses on them. Vlad closed his eyes- this was the first time she had initiated any contact since they had got back from Leicester.

"I love you, Vlad."

Vlad's eyes snapped open.

"I love you, too."

Erin smiled, before leaning in towards him. Vlad could sense her heart rate quickening. Her face was inches from his. He could feel her hair tickling his cheek. He could see the tear-drops clinging to her eyelashes…

"VLAD!" Bertrand's voice popped into Vlad's mind. He jumped violently, nearly banging foreheads with Erin. She stared at him, confused.

"What is it?"

"Bertrand," Vlad muttered. The tutor always timed his chastisements perfectly, didn't he? "We'd better get back to the office."

Reluctantly, the pair got to their feet, electricity still crackling between them. Vlad chanced a sideways glance at Erin; he caught her eye, and they looked away from each other, laughing awkwardly. Vlad felt overwhelmed with the desire to grab her and kiss her right there and then, but the last thing he wanted was for Bertrand to come looking for them again and catch them. After the meeting was over and they were back at Garside, hopefully they could pick up where they had left off.

* * *

The twenty minutes that were left of the meeting passed without incident. Erin listened to Bryant's plans without comment, even suggesting the time and date of the next meeting.

"Same time next week," Bryant agreed, as he showed them to the door. "Now I've got your statement, Miss Noble, I can collect those of the Van Helsings and your brother."

"How are you going to track him down?" Erin asked. Vlad caught the note of worry in her voice.

"We have our methods," Bryant answered delicately. Vlad felt Erin stiffen beside him.

"If you hurt him-"

"At ease, Miss Noble," Bryant told her lazily, "It'll be nothing like that."

Erin held his gaze for a moment, before flashing him a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and walking out of the office with her nose in the air. Vlad grinned.

"Got your hands full with that one, haven't you?" Bryant muttered to him as he passed. Vlad ignored him, shaking hands quickly before jogging after his girlfriend. Bertrand had a few errands to run and was going to catch them up later.

"Ready?" Vlad asked Erin. She nodded mutely and placed herself in Vlad's arms; he grasped her tightly to him before speeding off, back to the school, the feel of the cool air a welcome refreshment after the stuffiness of Bryant's office.

They materialised in Ingrid's bedroom. She didn't even look up, just continued filing her nails whilst flicking through the latest edition of _Fang_ magazine.

"Sorry," Vlad muttered to her. "Miscalculation." His sister smirked, before glancing pointedly at the door. Pulling on Erin's hand, Vlad made his way along the corridor to his own room.

"Sorry about that," he said to Erin. "My navigation's been a bit off the mark recently."

"Perhaps you need a few more lessons from Bertrand," she suggested.

"Not if I can help it," Vlad said darkly, "I see enough of him as it is."

"He's alright, you know. Deep down."

Vlad rolled his eyes; they had been through this before.

"Erin, nothing you can say is going to make me trust Bertrand. Not after everything that happened last year." He moved closer to her. "Anyway, let's not talk about Bertrand. I can think of better things we can be doing." He leaned in, aching to finally kiss her properly.

A slight cough from the doorway distracted him.

"What is it?" he called over his shoulder, his eyes not leaving Erin's face.

"Your father would like a word, Master Vlad," Renfield told him awkwardly. "He wants to know how you got on at the lawyer's."

Vlad gave a roar of frustration. "Can I never get a moment's peace in this house?"

He sped off in the direction of the dining room, his sharp eyes, for once, missing the relief in Erin's eyes as he left her.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope this story isn't proving a disappointment- I'm still trying to get into it at the moment. If there's anything anyone would like to see (HyaHya's mentioned Miss McCauley finding out that the Draculas are vampires) then just let me know :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry that it's been a fortnight since I last posted- I've been away, and thus missed the first two episodes of the new series! I've caught up now though, and it all looks to be kicking off. I'm glad that Vlerin has been 'formalised'- I agree with the Count for once, Vlad just needs to bite her and then they can be together forever! I really hope he does and they get married :) anyway, enjoy Chapter 7!_

Chapter 7

As the days stretched into weeks, and the threat of the trial loomed ever closer, the atmosphere in the Dracula household became more and more tense. People barely spoke to each other, and when they did it was invariably to pick a fight. Vlad hated it. On the one hand, he was dreading the trial and the ordeal it would be, particularly for Erin, but, at the same time, he just wanted to get it over with so some sense of normality could be resumed. Things had been topsy-turvy for months, and Vlad frequently caught himself longing for his life back in Stokely- it had been difficult there, of course, but nothing compared to this.

They saw Bryant and his team twice a week, usually on Wednesday evenings and Saturday afternoons. While Erin was being more co-operative in the meetings, Vlad knew that she detested every minute they spent there. He got the feeling that she wasn't telling him something- and it wasn't just paranoia. She had been increasingly reluctant to be around him ever since she had read the slayers' letter; Vlad couldn't remember the last time they had kissed properly. His frustration was growing, boiling away discreetly under the surface, invisible to the others- but every time Erin snapped at him, every time she pushed him away, Vlad felt it increase that little bit more. He wasn't in danger of doing anything stupid- not again, anyway- but Erin's cold-shouldering was slowly, painfully driving them apart.

Vlad knew he had to do something. He had tried letting her sort it out on her own: that hadn't worked. He had tried talking to her: that hadn't worked. He had tried everything he could think of, from going out of his way to avoid contact with her to spending every moment of his time with her, but nothing was working. Her barriers were set so high, and were so impenetrable, that Vlad could see no way of breaking through them.

There was only one person who could help him now- Ingrid. As much as he abhorred his sister's devious nature, she was his only hope of rekindling the love that he and Erin had once shared.

That evening, after a particularly venomous quarrel with Bertrand, which had resulted in several cloves of garlic narrowly avoiding the tutor's face, Ingrid had retired to her room. Vlad hesitated, before knocking firmly on the door.

"If your name begins with a B and ends with a D, with an E-R-T-R-A-N in the middle, then you can clear off," came the shout from inside. Vlad took a deep breath, before pushing the door open to reveal Ingrid sat in her coffin, pulling loose threads from the moth-eaten velvet lining and glowering.

"What do you want?" she demanded savagely. Vlad bit back his retort- so much for starting with pleasantries.

"I've just come for a chat," he said smoothly. "Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, he perched awkwardly on the rickety old chair in the corner of the room.

"Sibling bonding-time, is it?" she asked cruelly. Vlad ignored the jibe.

"I've come to speak to you about Erin."

Ingrid's eyebrows twitched. For a moment, she seemed lost. "Is love's young dream on the rocks, then?" she replied eventually, though without her usual acidity.

"Yes, actually," Vlad said bluntly; there was no other way to deal with Ingrid.

She looked surprised at his directness. "Well, what am I supposed to do about it? We're not exactly bosom pals."

"You said you liked having a girl around," Vlad reminded her.

"There's a difference, Vlad."

"Look," Vlad began testily, "can't you just talk to Erin-?"

"Talk to me about what?"

Vlad froze. The look of delight on Ingrid's face told him that Erin was standing in the doorway. Valiantly attempting nonchalance, Vlad turned around, fighting not to cower under his girlfriend's accusatory stare.

"Talk to you about…" he hesitated, wracking his brain desperately. "Vegetarianism!" he shouted triumphantly. Ingrid snorted. Erin's eyebrows shot up so high that they were in danger of disappearing into her fringe.

"Vegetarianism?" she repeated, her voice dripping with scepticism.

"Yep," Vlad said. He had never been so glad in his life that he was incapable of blushing. "Renfield's run out of tofu and I wanted Ingrid to ask you if you'd be ok with Quorn until we got some more in." It was a lame excuse, and it hadn't convinced Erin one bit.

"Why couldn't you ask me yourself?" Erin asked. Her cheeks, in contrast to Vlad's, were flushed with rage.

"Because…" By this time, Vlad's inspiration had run dry. He cast around for something, _anything_ vaguely convincing to say before finally meeting Erin's eyes.

"Because that's not what you wanted her to talk to me about," she concluded quietly. There was an uncomfortable silence. Ingrid's eyes were sparkling with joy- this argument looked like it was going to be serious, and she had a ring-side seat.

"Erin, before you get angry-"

Vlad hadn't even finished his sentence before Erin turned on her heel and marched out of the room. He had lost count of the number of times that he had heard a door slam in these past few days.

"Nicely played, Vladdy," Ingrid mocked, barely suppressing a cackle. Vlad rounded on her.

"You see? You see what I've got to deal with? I can't even say two words to her without getting my head bitten off."

Ingrid paused. Her dark eyes were glinting in the candlelight, her pale neck exposed as she tossed back her silky black hair. Vlad felt a shiver run down his spine- his sister couldn't half give him the creeps sometimes.

"I think I know what the problem is," she said finally.

"You do?" Vlad was shocked.

"She's-" Ingrid thought for a moment. "Well, I don't _know_, obviously. I mean, she's not spoken to me about it or anything. But it seems to me like Erin's… confused."

Vlad was nonplussed. "Confused? What does that mean?"

Ingrid smiled slyly. "The state of being perplexed or bewildered."

"I know what the word means!" Vlad snapped. "I meant what does it mean in the context of Erin?"

His sister glanced around mysteriously, before beckoning Vlad closer. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics, but obliged; she had him intrigued.

"Well," she began, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper, "Erin's seventeen. You're her first boyfriend and you've been together for quite some time now. How long's it been- about five months?" Vlad nodded. "Then she's probably at that stage where she's wanting to get more… _intimate_ with you."

Vlad nearly choked. Intimate? Considering he hadn't so much as held her hand in two weeks that sounded distinctly improbable.

"I don't think so, Ingrid."

"When was the last time you kissed? And I mean properly, with tongues."

"Ingrid!"

"Do you want my help or not?"

Vlad sighed. "Six weeks ago," he muttered reluctantly.

"Just as I thought," Ingrid concluded with satisfaction. Vlad looked at her quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

Ingrid gave him a pitying look, as if what she was saying should be obvious to anyone.

"If she's been holding back from you and avoiding you, then it means she really wants it. That's a girl's way of showing how much she wants intimacy."

Vlad swallowed. "And when you say intimacy, you mean…?" He wasn't brave enough to finish the sentence.

"That depends," Ingrid said cryptically.

"On what?"

"On how much you love her and how confident you are."

"I love her more than anything!" Vlad shouted indignantly, before cringing at how childish it sounded.

"And the second part?" his sister prompted. Vlad thought for a moment- _did_ he have the nerve to go through with it? If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure. He had always told himself that he wasn't ready, that there was a time and a place and that that was not now or Garside. But if it really _was_ what Erin wanted… didn't he owe it to her to make this whole ordeal as easy for her as possible?

"If it's what she needs, then I'll do it," he told Ingrid finally. He would do anything to get their relationship back on track.

"Spoken like a true Dracula," Ingrid said quietly, and Vlad was stunned- had his sister just complimented him?

"When should I bring it up?"

"Oh, don't discuss it with her- discussion would be fatal. Catch her by surprise; girls like to be swept off their feet." Ingrid paused, seemingly deep in thought. "It's Tuesday today… the trial starts this Thursday…" Vlad nodded; it was all he had been thinking about. "Don't do it tonight- you're not prepared. Tomorrow would be perfect."

Vlad was unconvinced. "The night before the trial? Won't she want to rest, gather her thoughts, be alone?"

"That's the last thing she'll want," Ingrid said. "When she's on that stand on Thursday, she'll want to know that you're there for her and that you're prepared to give her everything. What better way to show her that than making love to her? It'll prove to her that you can give her what she needs without her having to ask for it."

It made sense to Vlad. Maybe the reason behind Erin's frustration with him was that he simply wasn't cottoning on to what she desired.

"And you're positive I shouldn't discuss this with her first?"

Ingrid held his gaze for a second, an odd smile on her face. "Be impulsive, Vlad. Don't think- just do it."

_TBC..._


	8. Chapter 8

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm hoping that my posting will become slightly less sporadic now I'm home and back into a routine. Hopefully, we shall be returning to Friday night, Saturday and/or Sunday postings from now on. Thanks for sticking with me- 'Repercussions' has now received over 1,000 views! Wahey! I can't wait for Episode 3 tomorrow- I swear, if Vlerin split up the BBC will have hell to pay..._

Chapter 8

Vlad clicked his fingers. His usually dark, gloomy bedroom suddenly flooded with light as flames began to dance on the wicks of nearly fifty candles. He looked around, examining his handiwork. He wanted everything to be perfect.

He ran through a mental check-list:

1. The candles were lit, and placed strategically so that they wouldn't be knocked over should things develop as Vlad hoped they would.

2. His room was scrupulously clean, with all laundry in the basket in his wardrobe. He'd even straightened his posters.

3. Vlad had showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and changed. He was wearing aftershave, the one that Erin said smelt like freshly-cut grass.

4. He'd furnished his usually bare coffin with pillows and a thick blanket. He didn't want Erin to get cold, which wasn't difficult in the school's draughty attics.

There was nothing more that Vlad could do. He just had to wait it out and pray that Ingrid was right about what Erin wanted.

As if on cue, the elder Dracula sibling appeared in the doorway. She surveyed the room with a critical eye, giving nothing away, before flashing her brother a rare smile.

"Perfect," she said. "She'll love it."

Vlad nodded stiffly, before turning away and fiddling with the tassels on his curtains.

"Nervous?" she asked, but for once she wasn't mocking him. Vlad nodded again. "That's perfectly understandable."

Vlad felt uncomfortable- it was weird to be talking to Ingrid about this sort of thing.

"Do you think I've missed anything?" he asked her hoarsely from his position by the window. Below, he could see the final sets of students exiting the school grounds. It was just gone six o'clock- the after-school clubs would be finished by now.

"No," she said simply. She joined him at the window, hissing slightly as she saw a Year Nine take a piece of chewing gum out of his mouth and stick it to one of the pillars in the courtyard. "Just be confident, Vlad," she told him quietly. "That's all she wants. She's got no confidence in herself and she needs you to have it for her."

Vlad nodded mutely. He glanced at the clock once more. He had three hours to go before he intended to… before he intended to what? How could he put it without sounding crude? He'd heard the way some of the boys in his class spoke about the girls they'd 'scored', and equally Erin had told him about the 'pulling-power' of some of her friends. He supposed he was lucky to have found Erin; it meant that both of them would develop into adults knowing the value of the opposite sex. Neither of them were exactly what you'd call 'normal' seventeen year-olds, at any rate.

"How do you know so much about all of this stuff?" Vlad asked his sister, immediately regretting the question- he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ingrid just smirked. "I'm a girl, Vlad," she said condescendingly, "Girls know things. Boys just run around and make a mess and expect girls to clear it up; we're actually the more intelligent of the two sexes."

Vlad rolled his eyes. Ingrid's long-suffering feminism had been the cause of many an argument in the Dracula household, especially of late.

"Why are you helping me, though?"

Ingrid looked him full in the face. "I'm tired, Vlad," she told him. "Tired of being angry all the time. I used to think that not caring protected you from hurt; it doesn't. It's having a family and the people that love you around you that protects you."

Vlad was shocked, then suspicious as he remembered the events of last year. "You've said this before," he reminded her.

"That was when I felt useless, like I wasn't wanted at Garside. I still don't think I am. Not by all of you."

Vlad felt a small jab of sympathy. "He does want you, Ingrid. But you know the way Dad was brought up- tradition six hundred years ago was adhered to a lot more than it is now. Dad isn't likely to forget it."

Ingrid made a non-committal noise. Vlad didn't really know what else to say. He knew that, deep down, the Count loved Ingrid, but he'd spent so long repressing it that he probably didn't even know it himself now. It was another injustice that Vlad was determined to iron out when he took the throne: males and females _would_ be equal. His own family was proof of what could happen when they weren't.

"I need to see Bertrand before dinner," Ingrid said. "If I don't get a chance to speak to you before, good luck. Confidence is all you need." She grasped his shoulder.

Vlad smiled at her weakly. The way he was feeling right now, he was going to need it.

* * *

Erin didn't come down to dinner. She sent her apologies with Renfield, saying that she wasn't feeling very well and was going to get an early night.

"That's the trouble with breathers," the Count remarked, "They're always ill or injured or pining over something."

Vlad ignored him. He wasn't feeling too brilliant himself, though he was sure that it was just down to nerves, not only about tonight but also about the trial. He wasn't sure how long it would last. The letter that had arrived all those weeks ago had only said three days, but Vlad knew that these things could drag on for weeks, even months. It depended on how determined the slayers were to wreak their revenge and how resilient Erin would be against their attacks. Vlad had every faith in her- she was fragile, of course, after everything she'd been through, but she was strong, too. He only hoped that coming face to face with the life she'd only recently escaped wouldn't prove too much for her.

After gulping down a goblet of soy blood, Vlad pushed back his chair.

"I think I'm going to turn in early too," he said. "Don't forget, breakfast at 7am sharp tomorrow. I want to leave by 7:30am latest."

The Count groaned. "Why such an early start, Vladdy?"

"I want to leave plenty of time." At least they were flying, which should only take them a few minutes- if they'd been planning to drive, it would take over four hours.

"For what?" Ingrid asked, though she sounded genuinely interested rather than trying to pick a fight.

"Leave at 7:30am, there for before 7:45am; then we'll have over an hour to scope the place out, work out the lie of the land. We want to be prepared in case we have to make a quick getaway. The slayers will need to tell us the procedure as well, of course."

"Do they know we're coming?" Bertrand asked. Vlad hesitated. He hadn't thought of that.

"I don't care whether they know or whether they don't- we're going to be there. _All_ of us," he added sternly, in answer to his father's ill-concealed sigh of irritation.

Vlad left the rest of the clan at the table and mounted the stairs to the corridor of bedrooms, his hands shaking slightly as he folded up a slip of paper. He stopped outside Erin's door, taking a deep breath before slipping it underneath:

_Come to my room. I've finally worked it out._

_Vlad x_

Vlad bolted back to his room, shutting the door as quietly as possible. He flattened down his hair, before straightening his jacket and smoothing the creases out of his shirt. He wished he had a reflection- he was sure that he'd cut himself while he was shaving.

There was a knock at the door. Feeling his unbeating heart jump slightly, Vlad strode over to it. He closed his eyes for a moment, gripping the handle for strength, before pulling the door open with a flourish.

Erin was stood on the threshold, her eyebrows slightly raised, the note clutched in her hand. Vlad couldn't lie to himself: she looked terrible. She was deathly pale, almost as pale as Vlad himself, and the dark, purple-black circles under her eyes made her look as if she'd come off worse in a fight. Her hair was lank and dull, its usual gleam absent, and she was painfully thin. Her collarbone stuck out awkwardly, and her visible cheek-bones highlighted the point of her chin. Vlad knew that she hadn't been eating properly for weeks: at meal-times, all she did was push her food around her plate, snapping violently at Renfield when he asked her if she'd like something else.

She was still dressed, wearing a casual zip-up hoodie over a checked shirt and jeans. Her feet were bare. She looked so pitiful, the defiance and irritation displayed so clearly on her face at contrast with the exhaustion and fear in her eyes. Her bruise was barely visible now; it had faded almost completely, only a slight yellowish tinge on her cheek giving any indication that there had been one at all.

"What's this?" Erin snapped, waving the note aloft. "I said I was having an early night."

"Change of plan," Vlad said grimly. He didn't really want to do this while she was in this mood, but he had to make the effort for Erin's sake.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the room, slamming the door behind them and ignoring her shocked cry of protest. She didn't need to be coy now, not now he'd finally cottoned on. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, before he pressed his lips to hers hungrily. She struggled, trying to push him away, but he pushed her backwards, two, three, four steps, until her back hit the closed door. He pressed himself against her, biting down on her bottom lip. She gasped, and Vlad took his chance. His tongue finally brushed against hers, after so many weeks of no contact and chaste kisses, and Vlad felt an explosion in his brain. Fireworks, no, dynamite, was going off inside his head, the joy of being able to touch and kiss the girl he loved almost too much for him to handle.

But Erin was still fighting him. He was too strong for her, of course, but she wasn't giving up. She was twisting and turning against Vlad's body, endeavouring to free herself from his hold without success. Vlad could feel wetness against his cheeks, and he pulled back, confused- wasn't this what she wanted?

The tears were now pouring uncontrollably down Erin's face. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, clutching the door-knob for support, and brushing her sweaty fringe out of her eyes. Vlad didn't understand.

"Hey," he said tenderly, "What's wrong?" He moved to embrace her, but she scooted away from him.

"Don't touch me," she snarled, "Don't ever touch me again." She looked around the room, her now flushed face draining of colour as she surveyed the candles, the pillows and the blankets. She looked Vlad full in the face, the tears having been replaced by an accusatory glare.

"What's all this?"

"What you want," he replied, perplexed.

"What I want?" Erin repeated, her voice rising dangerously. "When have I _ever_ given you the impression that this is what I want?"

Vlad felt lost. Why was she still keeping up the act? "I-"

"I thought neither of us were ready? I thought we were going to wait?"

"But-"

"But you just decided that when you were ready, I was ready, and that we'd do it whether I liked it or not?"

"It's not like that, Erin- I thought this was what you wanted!"

"How the _hell_ did you reach that conclusion?"

"Ingrid said-"

With a cry of frustration, Erin grabbed a candle and threw it across the room. It cracked as it hit the wall, splitting into large pieces of solid wax, the tiny flame having been extinguished during flight.

"So Ingrid is now your relationship counsellor, is she? The Ingrid who left you for dead in Stokely? The Ingrid who tried to slay you numerous times last year? The Ingrid who would quite happily have drained my blood to use on the book?"

"She told me she'd changed-"

"No, she hasn't, Vlad," Erin spat. "She hasn't changed at all. She never has and she never will." She paused, trying to catch her breath. Vlad was beginning to see the mistake he'd made in not talking to his girlfriend first. "What exactly did she say to you, anyway?"

Vlad hesitated- he wasn't sure he really wanted to tell her. "That the reason you were being distant with me was because you wanted me to be intimate with you," he muttered eventually.

Erin's reaction was worse than he could have imagined. He'd have preferred it if she'd screamed at him. But she turned, if possible, even paler than before. "Oh, God," she whispered, sinking to the floor. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…"

Vlad looked at his girlfriend's huddled form. The sight of her so broken, so defeated, caused an uncontrollable rage to begin building inside of him. He was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. He'd been so desperate to fix his relationship that he'd taken advice from Ingrid. _Ingrid_. And now- now she would pay for it. She could be sure of that.

_TBC..._


	9. Chapter 9

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So Monday's episode. Oh. My. God. I cannot deal with how amazing it was. Vlad and Erin nearly kissing before stupid Renfield interrupts. Ingrid and RAMANGA nearly kissing- what the hell was that about?! I don't know if anyone's seen the preview for next week's episode on the CBBC website but it looks fab. Erin slapping Vlad- was not expecting that! She's got so much more feisty this series! Anyway, enjoy Chapter 9 :)_

Chapter 9

"You devious, back-stabbing BITCH!" Vlad roared as he burst into the dining room. Wolfie yelped, upsetting the gravy-jug; the thick, glutinous liquid ran everywhere, staining the cloth and dripping off the corners of the table. The Count and Bertrand hissed, jumping out of the way before the concoction stained their clothes.

"What are you shouting about, Vladdy?" his father demanded. "You are perfectly free to act like a hooligan while you're in school, but not here and certainly not while I'm enjoying a hot mug of B positive!"

Vlad ignored him. He was so angry that he didn't have time to listen to the Count's moaning.

"Where's Ingrid?" he growled.

"Here I am," came a voice from the corner of the room. His sister was reclining on the sofa, her back resting against the arm, holding a copy of _Fang_ magazine above her head. Now Vlad was face to face with her, he found it difficult to get his words out. He took a few steps towards her, his whole body shaking with fury; she didn't flinch.

"You… you told me that… you said that Erin…"

"Wanted to have sex with you?" she finished for him lazily, still not looking up from her magazine. "Yep, I know."

"But you knew she didn't! You were trying to break us up!"

"Well, there's not much to do around here," she reasoned in a bored voice, flicking over a page. Vlad could feel his fangs itching to drop.

"And all that stuff about being tired of being angry? You just made all that up?"

"I'm a vampire, Vlad, it's what we do. Well, it's what _I_ do- _you're_ the most pathetic vampire there ever was."

That was it for Vlad. His eyes narrowed and deepened to the most impenetrable black. He focused his energy on Ingrid's magazine… and it burst into flame. She dropped it immediately, spitting and cursing as she watched angry red burns spring up on her hands. Renfield had the sense to run forward with the water jug and douse  
the now smouldering sofa cushions before the sprinklers were set off.

"What is your problem?" Ingrid demanded, rounding on her brother. She seemed unperturbed by his state of fury.

"You! You're my problem! You always have been! You don't seem to be happy unless you're trying to ruin my life!" Vlad didn't care if he sounded melodramatic; the situation with his sister had now reached boiling point.

She cackled wildly. "Listen to yourself! Do you realise how ridiculous you sound? Erin's a breather, for God's sake- who cares if she wants to have sex with you or not? There are plenty of girls who would throw themselves at your feet. You're the Chosen One, apparently!"

"That's not the point," Vlad ground out, ignoring his sister's jibe. He'd suffered a lot worse from her volatile tongue in the past. "The point is that neither of us is ready but you made me think that this was what she wanted. Have you ever heard of a thing called rape?" Vlad involuntarily shuddered as he thought of what could have happened. He would've stopped if Erin had said no, he was certain, but who knew the amount of damage that would have been done by then?

"We don't have rape in vampire culture," the Count put in. Vlad turned on him, his eyes darkening once more.

"When I take the throne, we will. The way some vampires treat women- it's sick."

"And what would you know about it?" Ingrid said, smiling at him coldly. "You're a pathetic little virgin."

There was silence in the dining room. By law, Vlad could consent to sex at the age of sixteen, but he'd never had a relationship prior to Erin. He knew, one day, that he and Erin would take that next step, but, thanks to the interference of Ingrid and the slayers, that day seemed to be moving further and further off.

Vlad turned to look his sister directly in the eye. It was all he could do to keep his fangs well and truly away. He had never hated her so much as he did at this moment.

"No, Ingrid," he told her quietly, "you're the pathetic one. What have you actually done with your unlife apart from created chaos and misery everywhere you go?"

"That's a vampire's job," she spat back.

Vlad shook his head. "Not anymore. Not under my regime."

"Well, fortunately for me, we're not under it yet, are we?"

Vlad laughed humourlessly. "You know what?" he said, his temper beginning to subside now he realised that she wasn't going to back down. "Do what you want. Just don't mess with me and Erin again." He turned away.

"You can't stop me from doing anything, Vlad," Ingrid called after him. Vlad paused.

"I don't want you at the trial tomorrow," he said, his voice carrying a definite note of warning. "We're in enough trouble as it is without you stirring things up."

"Well, you see, that's going to be difficult," Ingrid said with relish, a wicked grin on her face, "seeing as I've been called for the prosecution."

* * *

Vlad's alarm rang out shrilly at 6:30am the following morning. He groaned, before scrabbling around in the dark of his coffin, his fingers grazing endless ridges of cool metal before he finally managed to turn it off. He turned over to go back to sleep- before sitting up with a start and promptly cracking his head on the lid of his coffin.

Today was the day. The first day of the trial.

Vlad opened the lid, ignoring the throb of an oncoming headache. Scrambling into his clothes, he shouted to his girlfriend through the wall.

"Erin! You awake?"

No answer.

"ERIN!"

There was a thump on the wall opposite.

"Shut up, garlic-breath, I'm trying to sleep!"

Vlad rolled his eyes; Ingrid had never been a morning person. Pulling on his trainers, he wrenched open his bedroom door and began to hammer on Erin's.

"Open up, Erin!" he shouted. They only had half an hour till breakfast and he knew how long girls took to get ready. During a slight cease in his knocking, Vlad's sensitive hearing caught the sound of retching. He left Erin's door and made his way along the corridor to the bathroom. Standing outside, he could plainly hear the sound of someone being sick. And Vlad was sure he knew who.

"Erin?" he called softly. "You alright?"

"Do I sound it?" she answered weakly, before Vlad heard her retch again.

"Aren't you going to go in and hold her hair back?" came a sarcastic voice from behind him, making him jump. Vlad turned to see Ingrid, immaculately dressed and made up, slinking down the corridor towards the dining room. He ignored her. She was just bitter that her little scheme hadn't done as much damage as she'd hoped.

"Do you, er- need me for anything?" Vlad asked Erin hesitantly. There was a pause.

"Don't be standing there when I come out," she said eventually. "I'm not a pretty sight."

Vlad, however, remained outside of the door, listening to the none too pleasant sound of retching. After about ten minutes, he heard a whoosh of water as the only shower in the living quarters was turned on. He looked at his watch- it was 6:50am. They had to- _had to_- leave at 7:30am.

"Are you sure you've got time for a shower?" he shouted over the sound of running water.

"I am _not_ standing trial in front of the Slayers' Guild smelling of vomit, Vlad!" Erin yelled back indignantly. Vlad wisely decided to leave her to it; if he hassled her for much longer, they'd never get out on time.

* * *

Despite Vlad's concern, he, the Count, Ingrid, Bertrand and Erin all made it out at 7:32am. Grasping his girlfriend to him tightly, ignoring how she tensed beneath him, Vlad took off. The flight only lasted a few minutes, and they arrived at the Slayers' Guild Headquarters just after 7:40am. It was a large, imposing building, built of sheets of steel plated with argentilium. Vlad could feel himself weakening, but the plating wasn't strong enough to completely drain him of his powers.

"Come on," he said, tugging on Erin's hand, "Let's get this over with." She hesitated, before letting Vlad pull her towards the huge metal doors, engraved with the Slayers' Guild crest.

The Count was gazing up at the faceless, windowless structure with distaste.

"And I thought our stinking breather-hole was bad," he muttered under his breath. Vlad couldn't help grinning. Whatever precarious situation they were in, his father always managed to insult the slayers in some way.

Bertrand pressed the button on the intercom.

"State your name and purpose," came a cold, gravelly voice through the speaker.

"Bertrand du Fortunessa, escorting Erin Noble to her trial for espionage, alongside Count Dracula, Ingrid Dracula and Vladimir Dracula, Chosen One."

"How many vampires are amongst your party?"

"Four." There was a slight pause, and Vlad picked up the murmur of conversation.

"All vampires must wait in the entrance hall to be escorted to their special seating in the gallery," the gravelly voice said eventually.

"What about me?" Ingrid asked, pushing her way to the front. "I'm here as a witness for the prosecution."

"Name?"

"Ingrid Dracula." The gravelly voice hesitated again.

"You will await further instructions in the entrance hall. You may now all come in." There was a loud buzz, followed by a click. Vlad grasped the handle and yanked the door open, before ushering the clan inside the building.

_TBC..._


	10. Chapter 10

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is probably going to end up being slightly longer than intended. Because of the courtroom scenes, I doubt I'll be able to cram everything into twenty chapters, but they'll be no more than twenty-five. I hope you enjoy Chapter 10- everything's starting to hot up now!_

Chapter 10

Vlad was the last of the group to enter the building. The heavy metal door swung shut behind him, its clang resonating dully around the hall. It was dark and gloomy, causing Vlad to squint despite his exceptional eyesight. The lack of natural light gave the hall a certain chill, and Vlad saw Erin shiver slightly ahead of him. She looked very pretty, if extremely nervous; whatever Ingrid had prepped her in, it had paid off. Vlad had noticed her walking a little taller and sitting a little straighter these past few weeks, and she had obviously made an effort with her appearance. The navy, knee-length dress she wore, with a wide band of baby-blue around its hem, was simple yet becoming, and the blazer and heels made her look almost business-like. Her blonde hair was freshly-washed and neat, and her make-up, though subtle, highlighted the striking blue of her eyes. In short- she looked devastatingly beautiful, in Vlad's opinion, anyway.

"Vlad?"

Vlad spun around. Jonno van Helsing was walking towards the party, looking unusually dapper in a suit and tie.

"You alright?" Vlad asked warily, holding out his hand to the slayer, who shook it briefly. "Nice suit," he added, gesturing to Jonno's attire.

"Thanks," Jonno replied stiffly, "It was my dad's."

Vlad swallowed. "So are you here to tell us what this is all about, then?" he asked quickly, in a valiant attempt at breeziness.

Jonno shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "I'm the expert witness. I'm on my way to the courtroom now, actually." He checked his watch. "You've made good time."

"I didn't want to be in a rush."

The pair lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Vlad desperately trying to think of something to say that would diffuse the rising tension between them.

"How's your mum?"

"Not too good," Jonno admitted. He moved forward confidentially. "To tell you the truth, she's a bit shaken up by this whole espionage thing."

"She's not the only one," Vlad muttered darkly.

"Vladimir Dracula!" rang out a sharp voice. Vlad shot Jonno an apologetic look before turning to face the source of the noise.

"I am he," Vlad said confidently, ignoring Ingrid's snort of laughter. He strained to see who was walking towards them- it had been a voice he recognised.

"You and your party will follow me to our specially constructed gallery," the voice said.

"Can't we have some light in here?" Vlad suggested. He could barely make out the photographs on the stone walls, let alone the identity of their guide.

A click of a switch, and several light bulbs, swinging on cords above their heads, burst into life. There were no shades covering them, and the harsh light only served to wash out even Erin's complexion.

Now the hall was illuminated, Vlad could see that their escort was, in fact, Angela Byrne, the delegate who had been sent to Garside back in March. She was dressed to impress- even Vlad, who knew nothing about such things, could tell that the necklace she wore around her throat was made of real pearls.

"Good morning, Mr Count, Count Dracula," she said frostily, nodding at them both. She glared at Erin contemptuously, who, Vlad was pleased to see, scowled right back. "I am here to escort you to the specially constructed gallery." She suddenly rounded on Jonno. "What are you doing here, van Helsing?" she demanded.

"Having a chat," Jonno replied coolly. "Not against the law, is it?"

"If you've got time to loiter-"

"What's happening to Erin?" Vlad interrupted. He didn't have time for their bickering.

"My PA, Thomas Golding, who, you may remember, accompanied me on our visit to your place of residence, will be along shortly to escort her to the waiting chamber," Angela answered icily, shooting daggers at Jonno's retreating back.

Vlad was startled. "Doesn't she need to wait for a briefing from her lawyer?"

Angela clicked her teeth impatiently. "We are on a tight schedule, Mr Count-"

"Doesn't mean that you can cut corners," Vlad interjected angrily.

The slayer looked very much as if she had just swallowed a very sour lemon. "Mr Bryant will be sent to the waiting chamber as and when he arrives, but I'm afraid the barristers have a meeting to attend before the trial begins, so…" Angela left the sentence hanging, implying to Vlad that if the lawyer didn't turn up sharpish then Erin would be left to face the lions without receiving the customary last-minute pep talk.

"I'll wait with her until Bryant arrives," Vlad said firmly. It wasn't a request.

Angela sighed. "Now, really, Mr Count, we cannot allow-"

"Why not?" Vlad demanded, fast losing patience with the woman.

"Because it is not standard court practice!" she exploded, her face flushing an ugly shade of puce.

"Standard court practice? Don't make me laugh! None of this is standard court practice!"

"Vlad," Erin cut in sharply, "Leave it." Her eyes sought out his, and signalled plainly that he wasn't making the situation any easier. Vlad sighed. She seemed to almost be on the slayers' side.

"You sure?" he asked her softly.

"I'm a big girl," she replied acidly, "I'm sure I can handle being alone for half an hour."

Vlad stepped back slightly, her words stinging. He had only been trying to help.

Thomas Golding had arrived by this time, and was surveying the scene with a smugness reminiscent of a lion about to rip a frantic, struggling zebra limb from limb.

"If you'd like to come with me, Miss Noble," he said greasily. She looked disgusted, not missing the way the young man's eyes lingered on her chest, but took a few steps towards him all the same.

"Wait!" Vlad cried out desperately. She couldn't go, not like this. "Good luck," he said lamely.

"Thanks," she replied stiffly, avoiding his gaze. Vlad couldn't believe it- he knew they'd been going through a rough patch recently, but was she really going to walk into the lions' den without saying a proper goodbye?

"I love you," he called, not caring that his clan were there to hear. Erin looked at him properly for the first time since their arrival, tears suddenly sparkling in her eyes.

"I love you, too," she whispered. The moment was ruined by Ingrid making sick noises, and Thomas snorting in disbelief.

"See you later," Vlad said, ignoring them both. He couldn't think of anything else to say. Erin only smiled sadly, swiping at her eyes before turning her back on the clan and retreating down the corridor with Thomas, who shot Vlad a nasty look over his shoulder before being consumed by the darkness.

"Are we quite ready?" Angela enquired slightly hysterically; Vlad could sense that her stress levels were off the charts.

"I've been called for the prosecution," Ingrid said smoothly, tossing back her gleaming black hair proudly and stepping forward. "Where am I required?"

"Down the corridor, third door on the right," the slayer replied distractedly. "You'll find the barrister for the prosecution in there with the other witnesses."

"The other witnesses?" Ingrid repeated.

"Well, of course." Angela looked at her as if she were mad. "You didn't think you'd be the only one, did you?"

Ingrid stared at her for a moment, a low growl emanating from her throat, before swinging around dramatically and flouncing off down the corridor. Vlad grinned in spite of himself- it wasn't often that Ingrid was reminded that she wasn't the most important person on the planet by a slayer.

That left Vlad, Bertrand and the Count, the latter of whom had remained miraculously silent so far. Vlad was exceedingly glad of this; the last thing they needed was some of his father's wisecracks sending the Guild into uproar.

"Lead the way, madam," Bertrand said courteously to Angela, bowing slightly. She looked slightly mollified, and began to lead the trio down the corridor. As they walked, they passed scores of metal doors, all, Vlad could tell, plated with argentilium, and set deep into the grey stone of the walls. Each door had a keypad instead of a handle, and the ones marked 'High Security' had keypads in addition to voice-recognition intercoms. Vlad was impressed- he hadn't exactly considered the slayers to be behind the times, but they had a surprisingly acute grasp of technology. More so than the vampires, anyhow, if the Count's goggling was anything to go by. Vlad could just about work a computer, but even that was taxing.

"Any idea what time we're supposed to finish?" he asked Angela, falling in step beside her. She bristled slightly.

"One cannot put timings on these things, Mr Count," she said haughtily. "In any case, Miss Noble will remain in custody overnight-"

"She will not!" Vlad exploded. They were treating her like a prisoner before she'd even stood in the dock.

Angela ignored him- a new tactic, Vlad presumed. He fell back to walk next to Bertrand, fuming silently as they passed more doors, more photographs, more Fire Safety and First Aid signs. He checked his watch: it was almost eight thirty. The trial would begin promptly at nine o'clock. He felt a sick, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach; nerves mingled with indignation, topped off with downright fear. While Erin had been with him, while he had been able to watch over her and offer his support, their situation hadn't seemed quite so serious. Now, however, now that she was alone somewhere in a waiting chamber, no doubt the recipient of scathing looks and snide remarks, conviction became a real possibility in Vlad's mind. Of course the slayers wouldn't play fair- they could play as dirty as the vampires if they so chose. They wanted their vengeance, and Vlad had no doubt that they would pull out all the stops in order to get it.

They mounted several flights of stairs, Angela wheezing unpleasantly the further up they climbed, before they reached yet another door. Angela inputted the code quickly, her back shielding it from Vlad's keen eyes, before pushing the door open and ushering the group inside frantically.

A dazzling light hit Vlad's eyes and he cringed, his retinas crying out in protest after the gloom of the rest of the building. As he walked out onto the gallery, the murmuring that had filled the room ceased abruptly. Vlad put his shoulders back and lifted his chin as he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes fix on him, scanning him for anything vaguely interesting or unusual. He stood there for a moment, motionless, before the eyes turned back to their friends and the buzz of chatter gradually resumed. Vlad felt his father's hand grasp his shoulder briefly, and he sighed, his entire body slumping. This was going to be a long day.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am going to shamelessly plug my recently uploaded one-shot (entitled 'Making Plans'). Take a look at it if you can, and let me know what you think- I'm hoping to write a couple more in the near future. Fingers crossed for another brilliant episode of YD tomorrow night! Can't wait to see Erin slap Vlad, whether it's a set-up or not..._


	11. Chapter 11

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm still in mourning for Ryan :( he and Erin had finally patched things up as well. I'm looking forward to seeing the aftermath on Monday. Enjoy Chapter 11!_

Chapter 11

"My Lord and members of the jury: the charge against this youth is that between the 9th October and the 29th November 2011, she committed the crime of espionage; that is to say, she was living and working with a clan of vampires after leading the Guild to believe that she was there in order to slay them. You may have read in the press that not only did the accused reside with the vampires, and, indeed, is currently still residing with them, but that she entered into a relationship with the Chosen One, Vladimir Dracula, son of Count Dracula, in what has been described as a 'Romeo and Juliet' type of romance.

The brother of the accused, Ryan Jeremy Noble, was bitten and thus turned by Ingrid Dracula, brother of the Chosen One, on the 3rd October 2011, less than a week before the accused arrived at the Dracula residence. The accused appealed to the Guild, who provided her with the necessary serum that would delay the brother's transformation but could by no means prevent it. The accused informed the Guild that she would be putting into practice an ancient legend, a legend which cites that to wipe out the bloodline that has infected a half-fang lifts the curse upon them. The accused would therefore be attempting to slay Ingrid Dracula and her family.

It is then, my Lord, that the complications begin. It is not clear when the accused abandoned her mission and threw herself whole-heartedly into vampiric life. What is clear, however, is that on the night of the 28th November 2011, the accused invited the Chosen One and his father into a top-secret weapons' base, in which, for want of a better phrase, a 'super weapon' was being stored. The two vampires promptly destroyed this weapon beyond repair while the accused looked on. Prior to this, on the 18th November 2011, the accused had assured two Guild members, Jonathon and Mina van Helsing, that they could rely upon her assistance in bringing down the Draculas.

After arriving back at the Dracula residence, the accused assisted the Chosen One and his family in overthrowing Sethius, the famed dark vampire from centuries previous, who had materialised through the use of the dark arts. She has been living with the family ever since, and her relationship with the Chosen One continues."

Vlad hissed softly at the barrister as he sat down and adjusted his wig slightly in a pompous manner. He wished he could send down a fireball and set the table alight- that would upset his wig alright- but the argentilium strips surrounding the specially constructed gallery were doing their job. Three slayers stood guard by the door, armed with stakes and UV bombs should the vampires try to make a quick getaway. They were imprisoned up here, Vlad realised, at least until the court broke for lunch.

"Call the first witness," the judge said in ringing tones, his voice echoing impressively around the cavernous room. The public gallery was packed with slayers from all over the world, many making notes on clipboards and in reporters' notebooks. Vlad supposed that a trial like this would be a first for many of them. Down below, if he craned his neck, Vlad could just make out the jury, twelve men and women dressed in suits and listening attentively. His sensitive hearing picked up both the scribbling of pencils as the court artists sketched the scene before them, and the dull murmur from the seating occupied by the British Guild members as they waited for the first witness for the prosecution to be brought in.

Vlad's attention was diverted by the entrance of Ingrid. She looked immaculate, her leather boots and glossy hair reflecting the light from the electric chandelier hanging from the ceiling, her black dress swirling as she took the stand. She looked incredibly intimidating, surveying the scene in front of her as though she were a queen looking out upon her subjects. Vlad noticed the two slayers that had escorted her in remained by the stand, stakes in hand. Ingrid gave them a dazzling smile, and they shrank back; Vlad rolled his eyes as he realised she must have lowered her fangs.

The clerk of the court approached her warily, holding out a black, leather-bound Bible to her gingerly. Ingrid deigned to place her hand upon it, her blood-red talons caressing the soft, supple material beneath her fingers.

"I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," she reeled off in a bored voice. The clerk resumed his seat, and Vlad leaned forward slightly- this was it. After everything she'd done, after all the pain and heartache she'd caused the couple, could Ingrid really be so heartless as to commit Erin to an indelible criminal record? He was about to find out.

"Full name?" the judge asked her, a look of distaste clearly displayed on his face.

"Ingrid Magda Carmelietta Zantoria Dracula," she replied proudly, flicking a stray lock of hair over her shoulder in a self-satisfied fashion.

"And who exactly are you?" he asked severely, looking down his pointed nose at her.

Ingrid looked affronted. "Only the daughter and eldest child of Count Dracula, sister to the Chosen One!"

"The witness will refrain from speaking to the Right Honourable Judge in such a tone," the clerk snapped, and Ingrid rolled her eyes dramatically, drumming her fingers on the edge of the stand.

"And you are a vampire, is that correct?" the judge queried.

"No, I bought these off EBay," Ingrid replied sarcastically, baring her fangs at him. There was a general cry of alarm from the assembled slayers; Ingrid's guards raised their stakes threateningly. Vlad jumped to his feet; he wasn't going to let them slay his sister, no matter what she'd done to him in the past-

"Order!" the judge demanded, banging his gavel in irritation. The hubbub quickly subsided, though that didn't stop the clerk from shooting Ingrid a particularly nasty look. Vlad resumed his seat, looking straight ahead determinedly as he felt his father's eyes piercing him. At least he hadn't flown down to try and rescue her.

"The prosecution may now question the witness," the clerk announced. The barrister who had spoken earlier stood up; Ingrid appraised him coldly.

"How long have you and your family been residing in Lancashire?"

"My father and brother: just over three years."

"And you?" the lawyer prompted.

"About six months."

"And you used to live in Stokely, is that correct?"

"It is."

"But you didn't all move to Lancashire together, did you?"

"No, we didn't," Ingrid answered, smirking slightly.

"Why was that?"

"They wanted to move, I didn't."

"Objection, Your Honour!" Bryant cried, getting to his feet. "The defence cannot see the relevance of these questions. The trial concerns a very specific time frame; it does not matter what occurred years before."

The judge nodded. "Get to the point, please, sir," he told the prosecution barrister.

"When did the defendant tell you that she was a slayer?"

"She didn't," Ingrid said smugly. "My brother's tutor found her slayer's kit under a loose floorboard in her room."

"And you had no inkling prior to this that the defendant was a human?"

Ingrid's smile faltered slightly. "She'd been using something called stasis spray," she said coolly. "It masked her scent and heartbeat."

"When did you discover the truth?"

"Friday 22nd November." The barrister looked astonished at her accuracy.

"All of you?"

"No," Ingrid said. She hesitated. "My brother had known she was a breather for weeks. None of us knew she was a slayer, though."

"Yet he didn't drain her?"

"My brother has a strange affinity for breathers," Ingrid told him smoothly. "That was why he signed the Truce- he wants breathers and vampires to live in peace."

A murmur of disdain ran around the court, and the judge tapped his gavel again.

"And did the defendant, from her arrival at your place of residence till the night that Sethius was slain, make any attempts to slay you?"

"Two- both within the first few weeks of her living with us."

"And after that?"

"Nothing. We wouldn't have suspected a thing if my brother's tutor hadn't discovered she was a breather."

"How did that happen?"

Ingrid waved her hand dismissively. "She was trying to find something in that Book to help her brother and he saw her blood or something like that."

"But she helped you in the end, didn't she? She helped you to defeat Sethius, after defying the two slayers who had been sent to destroy you."

Ingrid laughed. "Like those pathetic van Helsings would ever have destroyed us," she gloated gleefully.

"The witness will refrain from insulting members of the Guild," the clerk ordered.

"So you see, Your Honour," the barrister said, turning away from Ingrid to face the judge, "at no point during the defendant's stay was she in fear for her life. She made two failed attempts to slay the clan, before giving up to play Happy Families."

Vlad snorted- that was probably the overstatement of the century. Nothing about Erin's life at Garside resembled Happy Families.

"Despite her assurances to the Guild, the defendant was not committed to her mission. She gave up the moment she realised that it would be more difficult than she thought, and was thus able to work with the vampires in an attempt to bring down the Guild. No further questions," he concluded, and sat down with a swish of his robe.

To Vlad, it hadn't gone as disastrously as he'd thought it would. Ingrid had answered honestly- she hadn't done her usual scheming and tried to land Erin in more trouble, and for that, he was grateful, albeit grudgingly. It would now be Bryant's turn to question his sister, and Vlad was sure that the lawyer could shed some positive light on the situation if anyone could. If he was honest with himself, the charge was weak; apart from that from the Draculas themselves, there was very little evidence for the slayers to go on. Of course, that didn't mean that they wouldn't just make something up- they could be as cunning as the vampires when they wanted to be.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, I would love to hear your feedback- it is greatly valued and appreciated._


	12. Chapter 12

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, in thanks for all of your lovely reviews for Chapter 11, I abandoned my alarmingly large pile of homework and wrote Chapter 12. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Oh, and in other news, this story has now received over 2,000 views! Wahey!_

Chapter 12

"I don't think I've ever been more bored in six hundred years," the Count said, as the courtroom adjourned for lunch. Vlad resisted the urge to push him down the stairs. "Did they really have to spend an entire hour questioning Ingrid?"

"She did well," Bertrand remarked. "Kept a cool head, didn't let herself be intimidated, even when Bryant was putting her through her paces. All in all, I'd say her being called for the prosecution actually worked in Erin's favour."

"Do you think?" Vlad asked sceptically. "I mean, the prosecution made a valid point- Erin had plenty of opportunities to slay us but she never saw a single one through."

"Oh, the cruel injustice," the Count muttered under his breath. Vlad scowled at him.

"Do you think they'll let us see her?" he asked Bertrand anxiously.

The tutor shook his head. "Not till the end of the day, and even then she'll have to be accompanied by an escort."

"But nothing's been proven!" Vlad cried, exasperated. "Why can't they just let us talk?"

"In case she tries to make a break for it," Bertrand answered bluntly. Vlad fell silent, stalking the length of the corridor moodily. His stomach was beginning to rumble; he glared at it.

"I'm going to try and talk to her now," he announced suddenly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vladdy," the Count snapped. "The last thing Erin's going to want is you fawning over her being all kind and sympathetic." He spoke the words as if they were a species of poisonous fungi infesting his coffin.

"Erin's a breather, Dad," Vlad reminded him irritably. "And anyway, you don't know what she wants. You don't even know her."

"If you're going to go all teenage on me then I think I'll head off," the Count said loftily. "I'll see you back at the school." He turned to go.

"You can't go now!" Vlad cried desperately.

"Well, desist with your pubescent nonsense, then!"

Father and son glowered at each other, their eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. Bertrand hovered in the background, evidently unsure whether to take the side of the Regent, the Chosen One, or slink off into the shadows and leave them both to it.

"_Fine_," Vlad conceded irritably. "Let's just get some lunch- NOT a slayer- and we can decide what we want to do later." He looked at his watch: it was five past one. The trial would resume at two. That gave him and Bertrand just under an hour to put their heads together and decide on a plan of action. He didn't care what his father said- he was going to have to put up with some elements of court procedure, but he wasn't going to let the slayers push him around. Not when Erin's future was on the line.

* * *

"All rise," the clerk ordered. There rang out an elephantine amount of banging and scraping as five hundred people rose to their feet, their eyes fixed on the Right Honourable Judge as he resumed his seat on the Bench. He gave them all a brief nod, his wig, immaculately powdered and combed, wobbling slightly as he did so. Vlad perched tensely on the edge of his chair, his gaze flicking continually from the clerk, who was muttering urgently to the usher, to Erin. He could only see her profile, and her short stature had made it difficult for Vlad to spot her at first, but, as far he could see, she seemed to be coping well. He knew, however, that the worst was yet to come; Erin had not yet been required to take the stand, except to confirm her identity and receive her first dressing-down from the judge.

"What's happening now?" Vlad murmured to Bertrand. He could feel the eyes of all three of the slayer guards boring into the back of his neck.

"Not sure," Bertrand whispered back. "They'll probably want to talk to Jonno or Mina, or maybe even Erin again. It depends how long they're planning to keep us for."

"How long do things like this usually last?"

"Each trial is different," he said, shrugging. He turned away, refocusing his attention on the scene below. Vlad glanced back at Erin- she was twisting her hands nervously in her lap, swallowing every few minutes. Her eyes flicked up quickly to the gallery where Vlad was sat; Vlad waved, earning himself a few scowls from the members of the jury. She offered him a tight smile in return before looking straight ahead once more, her gaze glassy and unfocused.

"The defendant will now take the stand," the clerk announced. Erin jumped slightly, the colour rushing to her face, before standing up quickly, not looking at anyone. Her gaze was fixed determinedly on the floor as she was led to the stand by the usher, and she avoided making eye contact with the clerk as he held the Bible out to her.

"I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," she recited nervously, her gaze wandering stealthily across to the jury before snapping back to the front as the prosecution stood up.

"So… Miss Noble," the barrister began, looking Erin up and down hungrily as though she were a much longed-for treat, "Your brother was bitten on the 3rd October 2011, is that correct?"

"Yes," Erin replied, meeting the barrister's eyes defiantly. Vlad could almost feel the nervousness radiating from her, but he was pleased that she was going to put up a fight; it would make the lawyer's job a lot harder.

"And you appealed to the Guild for assistance the following day?"

"Yes."

"And, in return for this assistance, you promised the Guild to slay the Draculas, in order to test out the ancient legend?"

"I didn't know it was a legend. I thought it was fact," Erin corrected. The barrister narrowed his eyes.

"Are you saying that had you known it was a legend, you wouldn't have agreed to the mission?"

Erin hesitated. Her eyes flicked frantically from the area of the gallery where Vlad was sat, to the jury, to the barrister, then back to Vlad again. Vlad could practically hear the cogs working as she tried desperately to come up with an answer that wouldn't incriminate her further.

"Answer the question, Miss Noble," the judge prompted, not unkindly.

"I…" Erin stammered, the panic now visible on her face. Vlad could sense her heart-rate increasing, he could see her eyes widening like a rabbit caught in headlights…

"Answer the question, Miss Noble!" the judge repeated, his eyes now flashing in irritation. Erin gave him a frightened glance before swallowing hard, her face set.

"No," she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, "Even if I had known it was a legend I still would have taken on the mission. I would have done anything to save my brother."

The prosecution barrister nodded in satisfaction. Behind him, his team were scribbling furiously on pads and official documents.

"Which makes your betrayal all the more shocking, doesn't it?" he continued gloatingly, approaching the stand like a fox who has spied an unsuspecting rabbit. "Why did you refuse to kill the Draculas, Erin?" he asked her suddenly, and Vlad was taken aback at his abruptness. "You had the equipment, you had the opportunities- but you didn't use them. Was it the Chosen One? Did he make you feel safe? Did he make you feel special?"

"Objection, Your Honour!" Bryant cried angrily.

"Denied," the judge said. He was staring at Erin as if for the first time; though his expression was unreadable, Vlad felt an unexplainably cold swoop of dread.

"It had nothing to do with Vlad," Erin said cautiously. "I saw a better way."

"Did you? And that was working alongside the Draculas, while slayers were attacked and innocent humans were bitten?"

"Do you think I wanted that to happen?" she demanded furiously.

"The defendant will refrain from sarcasm whilst on the stand!" the clerk ordered. Erin threw him the sort of look that scorches.

"See, I think this was your plan all along, Erin," the barrister announced, as much to the courtroom as to her. Vlad was beginning to get irritated at the man's use of his girlfriend's Christian name. "I think your brother being bitten was a convenient ploy. You were able to lull the Guild into a false sense of security, giving us the impression that you were going to slay the Chosen One, when, in reality, you were plotting to bring us down!"

There was a fervent outbreak of murmuring at this point. Some slayers were looking at the barrister sceptically, their eyebrows raised, while the vast majority were nodding their heads and whispering in agreement to their neighbours.

"But why would I want to do that?" Erin asked loudly, almost shouting to make her voice heard over the buzz of chatter. "The Guild tried to help me; my parents are members- why should I want to bring them down?"

"_I'm_ asking the questions," the barrister said, now so close to her that Vlad was sure it was breaking courtroom rules. "Perhaps you were angry at the Guild for not being able to prevent your brother's transformation?"

"No, of course I wasn't, I just-"

"Perhaps you wanted to spite them despite the fact that they did everything they could to try and save him?"

"It wasn't like that, I-"

"Then why did you keep up the lie for so many months? Why, when the van Helsings arrived at the school, did you pretend to be on side? They took you in when your vampire boyfriend threw you out; they tried to protect you from the wrath of the Draculas, putting themselves, in turn, at risk- and yet you _still_ saw fit to double-cross them for the sake of the Draculas' pride. Your Honour," the barrister said briskly, turning abruptly from Erin and addressing the judge, "the defendant knew exactly what she was doing. She used her mission from the Guild as a cover for her work with the Draculas, costing countless slayers' lives, exposing innocent humans to the cannibalism of vampire-kind… and if that isn't espionage then I don't know what is."

There was a roar of approval from the crowd, many of whom began applauding. An old Bulgarian man at the back of the gallery even stood up. The judge banged his gavel repeatedly, shouting for order, but it was a lost cause- the public was united against Erin. The prosecution had devoured her up there, she had been completely out of her depth- and, with a surge of panic, Vlad was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that not even Bryant could prove her innocence now.

_TBC..._


	13. Chapter 13

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 13

"I have to see Erin."

"Vlad-"

"She needs me, Bertrand!"

"Just stop and think for a minute, alright? Don't go charging off without a plan."

"Plans are for breathers," the Count hissed.

Bertrand rounded on him. "If we go in all guns blazing then we won't be allowed to attend the rest of the trial," he said irritably. Vlad was already several paces ahead of them; he didn't care what Bertrand thought. He had to see Erin else someone was going to get it in the neck. Vlad smiled grimly as the image of Thomas Golding swam before his eyes; what wouldn't he give to sink his fangs into that pig's stringy neck…

Vlad shook his head as if to clear it- he couldn't think like that. In his anger, he was letting Bad Vlad take control, and he couldn't risk that. Not again.

"Slayers be damned," he called to Bertrand over his shoulder, "Erin will want to see me and I want to see her." His pace quickened as he marched towards what he hoped was the entrance hall. Why were there no directions in this place?

Bertrand suddenly grabbed Vlad's arm, pulling him round. Vlad stumbled slightly, the effects of the argentilium preventing him from using his powers to shake the tutor off.

"This is going to require charm and finesse," Bertrand told him urgently, his voice low enough that the Count, who was busy prodding distastefully at one of the keypads on a nearby door, couldn't hear him. "The slayers aren't going to want you anywhere near Erin. You give her courage, Vlad, and their job will be a whole lot easier if she's weak."

"There's no way I'm letting her stay here overnight," Vlad whispered back hotly.

"You're not going to have much of a choice."

With a roar, Vlad's fangs sprung down and he punched the nearest door in a fit of frustration. His fist left an indent in the solid metal, and Vlad hissed as he felt the argentilium burn into his flesh. He sucked his knuckles sullenly, cursing himself for his loss of control; he was acting like a child. He needed to man up and think clearly.

"Look," he said finally, the anger draining out of him as a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him, "If you've got a plan then let's just do it. I don't care how we manage it, but I need to see her."

Bertrand nodded determinedly. "Let's go, then," he said. "Your father can make his own way home."

"Can I indeed?" the Count muttered, clearly irritated at being left out of their plans. He sighed melodramatically. "Just don't be late for dinner," he told them fiercely, looking at his son and the tutor in turn. "Vintage Duchess of Cornwall is on the menu, and I can't guarantee that I'll save you any." A dreamy look suddenly crossed the Count's face, and he licked his lips subconsciously. Vlad cleared his throat pointedly. With a final, severe stare at the pair of them, the Count strode off down the corridor.

"Right then, Bertrand," Vlad said briskly, once his father's footsteps had receded into echoes, "Work your magic."

* * *

It took Vlad and Bertrand nearly twenty minutes to find the waiting chamber; the corridors of the Guild were so dark and winding that it was like navigating a labyrinth.

"This is it," Vlad hissed, yanking on Bertrand's arm as he spotted the words 'Waiting Chamber' engraved in gold leaf on a heavy oak door. It was one of the few in the building not plated with argentilium, presumably because it often held vampires.

Bertrand knocked on it confidently, assuming an authoritative yet unintimidating stance. The door creaked open a fraction.

"Yes?" came a hassled voice from inside. Something stirred in the pit of Vlad's stomach as he recognised the speaker- it was Thomas Golding.

"We're here to see Erin Noble," Bertrand replied politely.

"Is it the vamps?" Vlad heard a female voice shout from inside the room. Thomas must have given her some sign of affirmation, because Vlad plainly heard her tell him to get rid of them.

Bertrand bristled slightly, but kept his cool. "It is imperative that we speak with Miss Noble," he said smoothly. "If she is to remain in the custody of the Guild overnight, arrangements must be made for her necessaries to be delivered to her."

Thomas hesitated for a second. Vlad felt a spark of hope: the man was obviously unsure of the correct procedure, which would make him easier to sway.

"Hang on," he told the vampires irritably, before slamming the door. Vlad and Bertrand stood in silence for almost a minute, straining to decode the unintelligible murmur of conversation that was leaking through the door.

Finally, Thomas reappeared. "You are to drop off the defendant's belongings at the main entrance. We will ensure she receives them," he told them smugly, before making to close the door again.

Vlad, however, by this time, had had enough. Brushing Thomas aside as easily as if he were a ragdoll, he barged into the room, Bertrand at his heels.

"How dare you enter this room uninvited!" the female voice shrieked. Vlad ignored her.

"Where's Erin?" he demanded, his eyes frantically scouring the chamber for her blonde head. It was a dingy room, clean and well-polished, but the dated wallpaper and heavy furniture gave the impression that it wasn't often used.

"Miss Noble is receiving a briefing from her lawyer in preparation for tomorrow," the woman said angrily. "You, sir, must leave before I have you both staked on the spot."

"And risk destroying the Truce?" Bertrand asked her, amusement detectable in his voice. "You slayers really aren't as bright as you make out, are you?"

The woman drew herself up, and Vlad stared at Bertrand incredulously- what had happened to 'charm' and 'finesse'?

"Just give us five minutes, please," he implored, stepping in between his tutor and the furious slayer. "All I want is five minutes."

"_No_," she snapped, gesturing to Thomas to open the door. "Now leave, both of you, else you will have to be forcibly removed."

Vlad glowered at her, not moving an inch. If they tried to touch either him or Bertrand, they could unleash their powers; it was against the terms of the Truce, of course, but they had been provoked.

"I'm not leaving without seeing Erin," he said stubbornly, his voice low and shaking with supressed rage. Who the hell did the slayers think they were to try and keep him and his girlfriend apart?

The female slayer sighed and marched out of the room, presumably off to pick up some back-up. Vlad barely registered the slam of the oak door in his enraged state.

"You're sailing perilously close to the wind, Dracula," Thomas said from behind him.

"And you, Golding, are sailing perilously close to becoming undead," Vlad snarled, swinging round and baring his fangs at him. Thomas jumped back, drawing a stake from his pocket at lightning speed. Bertrand hissed softly next to Vlad, his own fangs dropping.

Vlad flung out an arm to stop him. "No- he's mine," he told his tutor telepathically. He was so wound-up with worry and concern for Erin that Thomas's provocation was doing its job perfectly. Right now, he didn't care about the Truce. His brain was so clouded with fury that he couldn't even remember that a Truce existed. His blood-lust, barely suppressed by the inadequately small bottle of soy blood he had consumed at lunch, was peaking. His eyes were drawn, as if magnetically, to Thomas's pulsing jugular vein. He licked his lips, feeling a sort of savage delight as he saw the slayer shrink back further until he hit the musty, 1970s wallpaper.

"One step closer, Dracula, and you're ash," Thomas said shakily, raising his stake.

Vlad laughed nastily. "Go on, then," he whispered, stalking closer to him, "Be a brave boy and dust us. Just imagine: the humble PA killing the Chosen One and his tutor. Front page of the Vampire Times, that'd be." He almost wanted Thomas to do it. He was desperate for a reason, any reason, to drain the man dry. His blood wouldn't be to his taste, of course- slayers' blood was notoriously foul- but it would be worth it just to hear the man's screams and watch the light fade from his wide, terrified eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" rang out a new voice. Vlad whipped round, all thoughts of Thomas vanishing as he came face to face with his girlfriend. He smiled widely at her, forgetting that his fangs were lowered; Erin jumped back, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene before her.

"Put them away, Vlad, before you do something stupid," she told him coldly.

"Make me," he replied recklessly, stepping closer to her. She stood her ground, looking up at him defiantly.

"Not even you are stupid enough to launch an attack in the headquarters of the Slayers' Guild," she said scathingly. She turned her head slightly to look at Bertrand. "Control him, will you?" she demanded angrily.

Vlad stopped. Erin's appeal to Bertrand had brought him back to reality with a bump. He felt as if he had been doused in cold water, washing away both his rage and his bloodlust. "I'm sorry, Erin," he began, reaching out to take her hand. She snatched it away, side-stepping him to address Thomas, who was still cowering in the corner.

"Go," she told him. The command seemed to rejuvenate the slayer.

"I don't take orders from traitors," he spat. Vlad whipped around, ready to spring to Erin's defence- but she got there first.

"If you want to be drained then by all means stay, be my guest," she said savagely. "I'd be quite happy to watch it, make no mistake."

Thomas hesitated, glowering at her, before turning on his heel and marching out of the chamber with as much dignity as his shattered pride would allow.

A short, tense silence followed. Vlad braced himself, fully expecting Erin to round on him- but she just stood there, staring at the spot where Vlad had been intending to sink his fangs into Thomas's neck. Vlad swallowed.

"You alright, then?" he asked her awkwardly. Her gaze moved slowly to him; she looked disgusted.

"Do me a favour, Vlad," she said quietly, barely concealing the revulsion in her voice, "Don't come to the trial tomorrow. All you ever do is make things worse."

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yet again, I am going to shamelessly plug my recently uploaded one-shot, entitled 'Costly Mistakes'. I really enjoyed writing it (it's from Erin's POV) so if some of you could take a look at it that'd be great. Thanks!_


	14. Chapter 14

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 14

The clock ticked.

It ticked a lot, Vlad had noticed.

It ticked once every second. That meant 60 times a minute. Which meant 3,600 times an hour. Which meant 86,400 times a day.

God, Vlad was bored.

He'd skived school and spent the day in his coffin, staring moodily up at the ceiling, wondering how many years it would be before the entire building submitted to rot and crumbled into dust. Like he would one day, Vlad thought savagely.

"Still feeling sorry for yourself?" Ingrid asked, loitering in the doorway. Vlad ignored her. He couldn't even be bothered to use his powers to shut the door in her face.

"Dad's not happy," she continued. "Miss McCauley's been on at him all day about the amount of school you and Erin-"

"Don't talk to me about Erin."

"Oh, pull yourself together, Romeo," she said irritably, flouncing into the room and settling herself down on Vlad's sofa. She spent a good few minutes smoothing the creases out of the skirt of her dress, looking around at Vlad's jumbled posters and dirty laundry with distaste.

"What do you want, Ingrid?" Vlad asked her eventually. He just wanted to be left alone, without anyone to bother him. People always seemed to want him, Vlad realised- he never got a moment's peace. He always had to help someone with this, do that for someone else, talk to someone about that.

"I just fancied a chat," his sister replied, smiling sweetly.

Vlad closed his eyes, praying for patience. "We both know you're only here to wind me up," he told her dully, "So why don't you just clear off and go and bother Dad? He'll give you a much better reaction, I promise you."

"He's probably licking Miss McCauley's boots as we speak," she said, sounding disgusted. "I can't work out his fascination with that frumpy, straight-laced breather. She's so…" Ingrid cast around for a word suitable to describe her old headmistress. "_Mundane_," she concluded in satisfaction.

Vlad said nothing. If he refused to speak, hopefully Ingrid would just give up and go away.

Ingrid had already clocked that plan, however. She approached the coffin, staring down at Vlad critically.

"You look terrible," she told him bluntly.

"Real charmer, aren't you?" Vlad muttered darkly. "You really know how to cheer a guy up." He sat up, rubbing his head fiercely and screwing his eyes shut as he felt the pang of an oncoming headache.

"You haven't even changed your clothes," Ingrid said, wrinkling her nose slightly. "I can't believe you've been in here all day."

"Well, as you said, there isn't much to do around here."

"I still can't believe you let that breather order you around."

"What do you mean?" Vlad asked, nonplussed.

"Well, you're the Chosen One, yet she told you not to come to the trial and you stayed away. I'd have gone, just to spite her."

"I know _you_ would have," Vlad agreed bitterly. Ingrid moved back over to the sofa, and Vlad lay down again, closing his eyes once more, trying to ignore the throbbing in his forehead. He wished Ingrid would just leave him be…

"Are you going to go tomorrow?" she quizzed. Vlad hesitated- Erin had only said that she didn't want him at the trial _today_. She hadn't told him to stop coming indefinitely.

"Not sure," he mumbled. "Depends what I'm doing."

Ingrid snorted. "Depends what you're doing?" she repeated, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Vlad, all you've done today is lie in your coffin and wallow in self-pity. I'm sure if you can fit that into your hectic schedule, you'll be able to make time to see whether your girlfriend gets sent to prison or not."

Vlad sat up quickly, blinking furiously to clear his vision. "She won't be sent to prison!" he said fiercely.

Ingrid shrugged. "She might be," she warned, examining her nail-varnish for chips. "And, if she is, do you really want her last words to you to be '_All you ever do is make things worse_'?"

"She's not dying, Ingrid," Vlad told her scathingly. "She'll get a fine, community service at most; and that's if she's convicted, which she won't be."

Ingrid looked up from her nails, her piercing gaze searching her brother's face. "You sure about that?" she asked delicately.

Something clicked in Vlad's brain. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you know?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"God, this family," Ingrid said irritably, standing up and dusting herself down, "So melodramatic."

"You're one to talk," Vlad shot back, irritation suddenly flaring inside of him. "You turned your boyfriend just because he didn't believe in vampires."

It was a cheap shot, and Vlad knew it. He felt a stab of regret as he watched his sister's usually impenetrable mask slip slightly, before she hitched it back into place, alongside one of her dazzling smiles.

"At least I had the guts to turn _my_ breather," she said sweetly, before turning on her heel and strutting out of Vlad's room, her hair swinging like a shimmering curtain down her back. Vlad scowled after her, but he wasn't angry- he knew he had deserved that.

He hesitated, dithering between getting up for something to eat and bedding back down again, before eventually hauling himself out of his coffin and pulling on his dressing gown. He padded along the corridor, his stomach aching slightly- he hadn't so much as seen a drop of blood since yesterday lunchtime.

He was distracted by a tugging at the cord of his dressing gown. He looked down.

"You alright, Wolfie?" he asked.

The small boy nodded, the ear of his teddy bear on the receiving end of a ferocious chewing. "Someone's on the phone for you," he told Vlad confidentially.

Vlad immediately felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. "Who is it?" he asked, his voice coming out slightly strangled as he endeavoured to keep it even.

"A girl," Wolfie said, grinning. "She said it was urgent. She said she was only allowed one call."

Vlad sprang into action. He sprinted along the corridor, his dressing gown slipping from his shoulders as his feet pounded across the floorboards. He careered down the steps, flying through the dining room, ignoring Bertrand's cry of astonishment as he turned the corner at break-neck speed. He jumped down the small flight of stairs, landing heavily on the tiled floor below, before staggering upright and setting off once again. Thankfully, the school was deserted- it was past 7pm, and it looked as if even Miss McCauley had gone home. Veering into the main entrance, Vlad spotted the school's one and only pay-phone; the receiver was dangling off its holder, bouncing ever so slightly on its coiled wire. Vlad snatched it up, the blood pounding in his ears; if he had been mortal, he would have been gasping for breath.

"Hello?" he said loudly, practically shouting down the line. "Hello?"

"Vlad, it's me."

Vlad felt his entire body relax as he heard Erin's voice. He pulled up one of the leather armchairs, dropping into it and sighing. It was incredible the tonic that a familiar voice could be.

"How are you? Are you alright? How did it go today? Are they going to reach their conclusion by tomorrow?" he gabbled, the questions pouring out like a torrent. He heard Erin laugh.

"I'm fine, don't worry- I didn't do a lot today. They mainly grilled the witnesses."

"How did that go?"

"Well, Jonno's was always going to be one of the worst, but Bryant went first, and he managed to shake him up a bit. He was a bit confused by the time it was the prosecution's turn, to be honest. They didn't really talk about Ryan or Sethius- it was mainly all about when they came to Garside that time. You know, when they were pretending that their mind-wipes were still intact."

Vlad nodded- he wouldn't forget that day in a hurry. "And Mina?" he asked anxiously.

"Not as bad as I expected," Erin admitted. "She was alright with the prosecution- he was quite friendly to her- but Bryant pulled out all the stops. She completely crumbled."

Vlad closed his eyes, relief flooding through him, warming his tired body. This was good news. It sounded like Erin had coped perfectly well without him.

"How's Thomas?" he ventured tentatively. He sensed Erin's hesitation on the other end of the line.

"He was off sick," she said eventually. Not being able to see her face, Vlad couldn't tell if she was lying or not; however, something about her words didn't quite ring true.

"He didn't give you a hard time, then?" he asked, deciding to press her slightly.

"No!" Erin snapped, a little too quickly. "They gave him the day off. He probably needed it- I wouldn't be surprised if his nerves are shot." She gave a forced laugh.

Vlad hesitated, but decided to let it go. If the slayer really had been bothering Erin, he'd be able to find out tomorrow. That is, if Erin wanted him there.

"What are we doing about tomorrow?" he asked her softly.

"I'd like you to come," she said immediately, and Vlad breathed a mental sigh of relief. "And, Vlad- about what I said yesterday- I'm really, really sorry. I was just tired; I didn't mean any of it-"

"I know," Vlad said softly. "I know." He paused, wondering how best to phrase what he was about to say. "Whatever happens," he began hesitantly, "I'm always here for you. You know that. After everything that's gone on…" There was a small click, and Vlad tailed off in confusion. "Hello?" he said, perplexed. "Hello?"

But the line had gone dead.

_TBC..._


	15. Chapter 15

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 15

Breakfast the next morning was an uncomfortable affair. Vlad stabbed moodily at his Rice Krispies, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the rest of the family, all of whom were shooting him reproachful looks for dragging them out of their coffins at such an ungodly hour.

"Nice day for it," Renfield observed lamely. Vlad glowered at him, his cereal having now disintegrated into a bowl of milky mush. He glanced at the sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains; Renfield had a point. An unusually warm April breeze was wafting through the open window, and Vlad could hear the sound of tweeting as various birds gathered around the bird-table in the courtyard.

"I doubt we'll make it without being burnt to a crisp," the Count remarked, draining his goblet of blood and setting it back on the table with a clunk. He looked at Vlad sternly. "Are you really going to go to that stinking slayer pit again?"

"She's my girlfriend," Vlad said through gritted teeth.

"Who can't even be bothered to finish a phone conversation with you," Ingrid put in. Vlad scowled, but refused to rise; he knew she was as on edge as he was.

"If you don't want to come, then don't," he told them all tonelessly, scraping his chair back to go and brush his teeth. "But if anyone is, then I'm leaving in ten minutes."

He stomped out of the dining room. The question that had been running round and round his brain since yesterday evening resumed its marathon: _why_ had Erin put the phone down on him? Had she been told to? Had the receiver been forced out of her hands by her escort and slammed back into its holder? Or had she simply rung to apologise out of courtesy and not been bothered to say more to him than that?

But then she had invited him to the trial today. It just didn't make any sense.

Vlad sighed, pushing his fringe out of his eyes as he arrived outside the bathroom door- this whole thing didn't make any sense.

* * *

"All rise," the clerk ordered. Once again, there was a colossal amount of noise as the assembled slayers rose to their feet. The tension in the courtroom was almost intolerable; slayers of every age, nationality and status were stood ramrod straight, their eyes glued to the Right Honourable Judge as he exchanged words with the clerk. Vlad could see Erin's chest rising and falling rapidly as she endeavoured to keep her nerves under control. Her leg was twitching badly, and every so often she tugged at the scarf around her neck, as if it had become uncomfortably tight.

"She looks terrified," Bertrand whispered to him, his voice carrying like a trumpet-call. A group of Russian slayers sat in the gallery's open section shot them scornful looks.

"She's fine," Vlad murmured back, though concern rose inside of him as he noticed the beads of sweat forming on his girlfriend's forehead. While he could understand Erin's apprehension, he couldn't for the life of him think why she was this scared. She'd faced the slayers before, in more precarious circumstances than this one.

"She needs to get a grip," Ingrid remarked from Vlad's other side. In the end, the entire clan had turned up, albeit in very bad grace- all except for Wolfie, whom the Count had instructed to stay at Garside with Renfield.

"I doubt it will help Erin's case if half of the courtroom becomes infected with fleas," he had reasoned nastily, in response to Wolfie's whine of protest.

Now, the Count was sat to Bertrand's right, examining his perfectly filed fingernails with the air of a man completely and utterly mind-numbed. Vlad felt irritation surge through him, but he swallowed his cutting comments; he shouldn't expect anything less from his father.

"You will be faced with a simple question," the judge began in ringing tones, and the entire courtroom stiffened. "This youth's mission, assigned to her by the Guild, was to slay the Dracula clan. Did she take up that mission with good intent, with honest intent, and was simply led astray by the Draculas' manipulation? Or was her real mission all along one of espionage, where her undisclosed purpose was to bring down the Guild with the assistance of the Chosen One and his family? It is for you to decide what the evidence supports. You have heard from those who witnessed the accused's actions; you have heard from those who assisted the accused in defeating Sethius. You have heard both the cases of the defence and of the prosecution. Members of the jury, I will ask you to retire and consider your verdict. Is this youth guilty of the crime of espionage against the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain?"

"Yes!" shouted a woman on the front row of the gallery. There was an outbreak of muttering and a good deal of head-shaking; the judge banged his gavel impatiently.

"Order!" he cried in irritation. The clerk was shooting daggers at the woman who had caused the disturbance; she threw back her head defiantly, glaring at Erin, whose own eyes were fixed determinedly on the crest adorning the arch above the Bench.

The jury stood up, each member inclining their heads slightly to the judge, before filing out of the courtroom into the antechamber. Vlad watched as Erin was escorted from her own seat to the waiting chamber; he jumped up, trying desperately to catch her eye, but his father pulled him back down into his chair.

"For bats' sake, Vladdy, stop drawing attention to yourself!" he hissed. Vlad ignored him, leaning perilously far over the balcony to try and glimpse her, but she had already been led away. He didn't know whether she had seen him or not.

"Relax," Ingrid told him in a bored voice, "You see enough of each other's gormless faces as it is."

"You never know when to shut up, do you?" Vlad snapped at her, still leaning much too far over the edge of the balcony.

"Come on, Vlad," Bertrand said soothingly, though there was an ill-disguised edge to his voice, "Sit back down. You plummeting to your death isn't going to do anyone any good."

Vlad hesitated, before heeding his tutor's words and flopping back down into his seat. He closed his eyes briefly, Erin's terrified face swimming before him. He shook his head subconsciously, as if in an attempt to dislodge the image from the front of his mind. He just didn't understand it. If Erin was really that scared, why hadn't she confided in him? She could've spoken to him about it yesterday, instead of slamming the phone down mid-conversation.

It wasn't as if she'd had anything better to do, he thought bitterly.

Bertrand nudged him again. "The jury will need a little while to come to their decision," he told him. "How about we go and stretch our legs?"

Vlad sighed and nodded, shaking his right foot awake; all this waiting was becoming unbearable.

* * *

"Will the foreman please stand, and face the prisoner at the bar?" the clerk ordered forty minutes later, after the jury had returned to the court. Butterflies were fluttering frantically around Vlad's innards as the foreman rose to her feet. "Please answer my first question, yes or no," he continued. "Have you reached a verdict on which you have all agreed?"

"We have, sir."

"Do you find the prisoner, Erin Francesca Noble, guilty or not guilty of espionage?"

The foreman's gaze flickered to the judge for a fraction of a second. "Guilty," she announced, unable to conceal a sickening note of satisfaction in her voice.

Vlad felt a stab in the pit of his stomach, but he had known in his heart that this was coming. There was no way the jury would have let her off. The slayers needed someone to make an example of, and Erin, unfortunately, had been selected as that person.

"You find the prisoner guilty, and that is the verdict of you all?" the clerk enquired.

"It is," the foreman concluded, giving Erin a smug little nod before resuming her seat.

The clerk turned to the bar. "Erin Francesca Noble, you stand convicted of espionage. Have you anything to say why sentence should not be passed according to the law?"

Erin stood stock still, frozen, her eyes glassy and unseeing. She made no move to speak. The clerk waited for a moment, before turning away to face the judge. He opened his mouth to address the elderly man seated above him.

Almost as one, the entire courtroom rose to its feet- but this wasn't a sign of respect. They began applauding: a vicious, vindictive sort of applause, which echoed deafeningly around the high-ceilinged hall and beat down upon Vlad's sensitive eardrums. The judge banged his gavel, the clerk was turning a shocking shade of puce, but the applause continued. Erin hadn't had a chance, Vlad realised, not with this level of opposition to her case.

Vlad chanced a glance at her. Her face was blank, her eyes completely dead. She didn't look surprised or distressed by the verdict. Only her hands gave away the slightest trace of fear; they were gripping the edge of the bar so tightly that her knuckles were threatening to burst through the skin.

Her lack of emotion was what angered Vlad more than anything else. Why wasn't she upset, why wasn't she fuming at what the slayers were doing? They were giving her an indelible criminal record. Gone were her university chances, gone were her job prospects- the slayers were ruining her life, and she didn't even seem to care.

The applause was beginning to subside now. The majority of the public gallery had sat back down, looks of triumph plainly displayed on their faces.

"Why can't they just get on with it?" Vlad asked Bertrand angrily.

But Bertrand wasn't listening. His eyes, almost comically wide, were fixed on the Bench, his mouth slightly agape as he watched the clerk place a square piece of black silk upon the top of the judge's wig.

The courtroom had fallen deathly silent. Vlad, perplexed, poked Bertrand in the ribs.

"What's going on?" he hissed.

But Bertrand didn't answer. For the second time in his life, he seemed to have been rendered speechless.

"Erin Francesca Noble," the judge began, and Vlad jumped, "You are seventeen years of age. It remains my duty to pass upon you the only sentence the law can pass for the crime of espionage. You will be taken from this place to the confines of the headquarters of the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain, and thence to a place of execution, where you will suffer death by hanging. Your body will be burnt and your ashes stored in accordance with the customs of the Guild."

The judge leaned forward slightly, pure hatred in his eyes as he looked Erin full in the face.

"And the may the Lord have mercy upon your soul."

_TBC..._


	16. Chapter 16

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 16

Silence.

Complete, utter, impenetrable silence.

No-one moved. No-one spoke. No-one coughed, or sneezed, or sighed.

Simply silence.

And it wasn't just the people; the entire building had stilled too. Not a timber creaked. Not a door banged. Not a window rattled.

It was as if this giant metal structure knew what the judge had said. As if it had been listening, and knew what the judge had done.

Vlad couldn't see. He couldn't hear. His vision had clouded over and there was a sharp, incessant ringing in his ears. There was just one thought circling round and round his brain, screaming itself so loudly that he thought his head would burst:

_They're going to kill Erin. They're going to kill Erin. They're going to kill Erin._

There seemed to be a heavy, soundless pressure bearing down upon him, as if he were trapped under water, as if he had been submerged in a tidal wave.

But gradually, as the seconds dragged on and the wave receded, the courtroom slowly dragged itself back to life. A distressed, urgent muttering had broken out; many slayers were shaking their heads, gesturing to Erin and mouthing phrases like "Only seventeen" and "Recommendation for mercy" and "Foul play".

Yet the majority were nodding their heads vehemently, eyeing Erin like a vulture might size up a fresh corpse. That's all she was to them now, Vlad realised; a body. An empty shell. An urn of ash. A nothing.

It was that thought that revived Vlad's comatose brain. Erin wasn't a nothing. She was everything to Vlad- everything. Without her, Vlad knew he couldn't go on. He couldn't do this Chosen One thing without her.

"I… I…" he stammered incoherently, twisting his stiff neck to look at each member of his family in turn, a helpless, pleading look on his face. Bertrand still looked in shock; Ingrid's hands were over her mouth; even the Count looked shaken.

"I don't understand," his sister whispered eventually, her voice muffled beneath her hands. She turned to Vlad. "Did you know?" Her tone was almost accusatory.

"Do you think I would have let her stand trial if I had?"

Ingrid fell silent once more, blinking and swallowing fiercely. Vlad's attention, however, had been diverted by Erin's guards; they had pulled her hands behind her back and were beginning to secure them with a pair of steel handcuffs.

The action was what finally kicked Vlad into life. Momentarily forgetting how depleted his energy levels were, he leapt out of his chair, adrenaline searing through his veins like fire.

"ERIN!" he roared.

"Sit down, Vladdy!" his father hissed. He stood up, wrestling with his son to try and force him back into his seat, but Vlad shook him off.

"ERIN!" he bellowed again

"Come on, Vlad," Bertrand said, ignoring the scandalised glances they were receiving from the members of the jury. He grabbed Vlad around the chest from behind; the effects of the argentilium meant that Vlad couldn't throw him off as easily as usual. He fought tooth and nail, struggling against Bertrand's strong grip, while Ingrid glared at the slayers with as much malice as she could muster in her state of shock.

The judge utterly ignored the disruption. "Take her down," he ordered contemptuously. The two guards grasped Erin's upper arms; she didn't put up a fight, her body limp as they pulled her round. Vlad, still struggling, managed to crane his neck to look over the balcony.

"Erin!" he yelled, his voice cracking. Her head snapped up, her cold, dead eyes searching frantically for his. Their gaze locked for a fraction of a second, and Vlad's body suddenly sagged, all the strength having left him.

He had expected to see pure anguish in Erin's face, to see the tears rolling down her cheeks, to at least see her fighting to maintain control of her emotions.

But she was inexplicably, unexplainably calm. There was no expression on her face; her body language was unreadable.

"Erin?" Vlad choked, but she had already descended the steps into the bowels of the Guild. Bertrand loosened his hold tentatively and Vlad slid to the floor, the mouldings on the wall of the balcony digging into his back as he stared, unseeingly, at the faded carpet.

"They're not going to hang her now, Vlad," Bertrand whispered, crouching down beside him. "I know this is a massive shock, but try not to panic, ok?"

Vlad looked up at him, wetness burning at the back of his eyes. "Try not to panic?" he whispered hoarsely. "_Try not to panic_?"

"I just mean-"

"I know what you mean!" Vlad snarled, placing his head in his hands and clutching at his hair so hard it hurt.

"Come on, Vlad," Ingrid said quietly. She hadn't moved from her seat. "Let's go home."

"I'm not leaving without Erin!" Vlad yelled, not caring how childish he sounded, not caring that the entire courtroom could hear him. He still couldn't take it in. _They're going to kill her… they're going to kill her…_

"Ingrid's right, Vlad," Bertrand said softly, grasping the young vampire's shoulder lightly. "The sooner we get home, the sooner we can work out a plan."

"And get something to drink," the Count added under his breath. Ingrid shot him the sort of look that had been known to reduce her school-teachers to quivering wrecks.

Vlad allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and guided out of the gallery, the clan acting as a sort of guard of honour around him. He didn't care if he'd just made a complete fool of himself in front of the entire Slayers' Guild; he didn't care if he'd made himself look weak and pathetic. He couldn't just abandon Erin. Who was to say the slayers wouldn't just hang her tonight? They'd played dirty enough so far.

Bertrand seemed to realise what he was thinking. "They're not going to hang her now, Vlad," he repeated, looking his student in the eye.

"How do you know?"

"It's unlawful. They have to give it a least a fortnight to allow time for an appeal."

Vlad nodded mutely. He didn't have the energy to argue. He just wanted to leave this hideous, nightmarish place as soon as he could.

* * *

_Too many broken hearts have fallen in the river;  
Too many lonely souls have drifted out to sea.  
You lay your bets and then you pay the price:  
The things we do for love (the things we do for love)._

_Communication is the problem to the answer-  
You've got her number and your hand is on the phone.  
The weather's turned and all the lines are down:  
The things we do for love (the things we do for love)._

_Like walking in the rain and the snow when there's nowhere to go  
When you're feeling like a part of you is dying  
And you're looking for the answer in her eyes.  
You think you're gonna break up, then she says she wants to make up._

_Oh, you make me love you; oh, you've got a way.  
Oh, you've had me crawling up the wall…_

CRASH.

With a roar of fury, Vlad lifted up the old gramophone and hurled it across the room. It shattered, springs, cogs and all manner of metal parts littering the floor. The record itself fragmented into hundreds of tiny pieces, a fine, black, lacquered powder now coating the floorboards of Erin's room.

The record had been one of her favourites: _The Things We Do For Love_ by 10cc. Vlad had thought, with everything that had happened that day, that mulling it all over in his girlfriend's room would somehow help him to make sense of it all.

It hadn't. All it had done was ignite a ferocious, murderous rage inside of him.

He walked over to the mess he had created, his movements as slow and sluggish as if he had been in a trance. The gramophone was broken beyond repair. He couldn't even remember where they'd got it from. They'd probably found it in the attic when they'd been searching for a coffin for Erin.

Erin. Erin. Even thinking the name caused a sharp, pricking sensation at the back of his eyes. He swiped at them fiercely- he had no reason to cry. He wasn't the one sat in a cell in the depths of the Slayers' Guild, counting down the hours left until…

No. Vlad gave himself a little shake. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't give up hope. They had two weeks, Bertrand had said- two weeks to try and sort this all out.

As if on cue, Bertrand entered the room, a harassed look distorting his chiselled features. A thin film of sweat clung to his milky skin.

"Fax for you," he said distractedly, waving a small piece of printed paper at Vlad. "I've just had Bryant on the phone- we've got a meeting tomorrow at 9am- that ok?"

Vlad wasn't listening. He snatched the fax out of Bertrand's hands and ripped it open. His tutor sped off immediately, no doubt back to the library to continue reading any book he could lay his hands on that concerned the slayer court of law.

Vlad's hands were trembling slightly. The fax bore the Slayers' Guild crest, large, black and ugly. Praying silently that it wasn't bringing him the news he feared, Vlad lowered his eyes to the message and began to read:

SO SORRY STOP HAD NO IDEA THAT WOULD HAPPEN STOP MUM IS IN TEARS WE NEVER WANTED THIS STOP PARENTS OF ERIN UP IN ARMS STOP IF THERE IS ANYTHING WE CAN DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE STOP

JONNO

Vlad, more out of habit than necessity, took several deep, calming breaths. His head spun unpleasantly, but he felt relief coursing through him. She wasn't dead.

_Not yet_, whispered the sly little voice at the back of his mind.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to draw your attention to my recently uploaded one-shot entitled 'Incurable', which I have dedicated to HyaHya, Redraxcho and Vlarinfan4eva for always leaving me such lovely reviews. In other news- this story has now received over 3,000 views (thank you all very much) and OMG! Erin is now a vampire! Vlerin need to get back together now and then my life will be complete..._


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1**

Chapter 17

_Tuesday 29__th__ April_

_Dear Vlad,_

_I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I was stupid. I didn't know what I was doing. I was scared. I love you so much and I can't believe how much pain I've put you through these past few weeks. I'm so sorry._

_I knew about the death sentence. It's never been outlawed in slayer culture- they see it as a far more effective deterrent than imprisonment. I knew they would pass it on me as soon as I read their letter, all those weeks ago. No matter how good a lawyer I had, no matter how weak their evidence; I knew they would do it. They need someone to make an example of, someone whose picture they can display on the walls of the Guild; a picture that will remind anyone who walks past it of what happens if you betray the Guild. Of what happens if you side with their enemies._

_So I had two choices: I could spend my final few weeks practically living in your pocket, savouring each kiss and touch as if it was my last. I could tell you about the sentence, and we could enjoy our time together as best we could before the Guild got their revenge._

_Or I could keep the secret to myself. I could push you away, keep my distance, try to convince you that I didn't love you anymore. Then, when I hung, it would be easier for you. Hopefully you'd hate me so much that you'd find it easier to move on._

_It seemed like a no-brainer to me, Vlad. I couldn't stop you from getting hurt, but at least, in the second option, you would only be hurting for a few months. Then you could resume your normal life, concentrate on being the Chosen One, and one day marry some nice, respectable, appropriately blood-thirsty vampire girl._

_Not a pathetic breather like me._

_I didn't think it through, Vlad. Sitting here, now, at the Guild, you have no idea how much I regret not enjoying that last month I had with you. If I could go back to the night we returned from Leicester- that seems like years ago now- then I would rip up that letter and stay by your side until the Guild forcibly dragged me away. When I think about our last kiss, how awful I was, it makes me think that I deserve what's going to happen to me. You deserved better than that, Vlad. You deserved to know the truth about what was- is- going to happen. But I couldn't face the goodbye. I thought that it would be easier to cope with alone, that by somehow keeping it to myself I could pretend it wasn't happening. I wasn't brave enough to confide in you and let you face this with me._

_I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry. I love you._

_And I don't want you blaming yourself. I know what you're like. I __chose__ to come to Garside, I __chose__ to betray the slayers and side with you- and I don't regret it. Not for a second. The seven months I've spent with you have been the happiest of my life. We've had our moments, and your family and I don't exactly see eye to eye, but I know that they don't want this to happen. They've tried to kill me three, four times, I think, but they're not all bad. But don't let them read that!_

_And don't you start thinking that you've 'ruined my life' because you haven't. I wasn't happy at home. Well, I suppose I was, for a time, but I could never be me. I could never truly do what I wanted to do, make my own mistakes and learn from them. I had to follow the path that was picked out for me. We've both had to do that. We expect our parents to be the clever, intelligent ones who know what they're doing but they're not. Sometimes they mess up more than we do._

_Our parents are stuck in the past, Vlad. Yours more so than mine- your father was born in the 1400s! They haven't realised that the world's moved on since they were in their prime. There's a new way of life now and a new system. Girls don't have to be seen and not heard, and boys don't have to follow in the footsteps of their fathers. Not if they don't want to._

_I'm rambling now. I suppose I don't want to finish this letter. I just want to keep writing and writing until they take me away. But then you'd never get to read it._

_I love you, Vlad. So, so much. I'll never forgive myself for treating you so awfully these past few weeks. I'd understand if you throw this letter on the fire as soon as it arrives. But I hope you don't. Because as hideously cliché as it sounds, I do truly love you with all my heart._

_I don't know if they'll let me write to you again. They're letting me write to Mum and Dad, of course, but they were a bit funny about me writing to Ryan and he's my brother. So if this is the last letter I send to you… well, I think I've said everything that needs to be said. Well, that's not true, I'll never be able to say everything that I need to say. But you know by now that I'm sorry and that I love you._

_Good luck, Vlad. You're going to be a wonderful ruler. Stick to your guns and don't let anyone boss you around- only I'm allowed to do that! Don't let the Count stick his oar in. Watch out for Ingrid. And, please, if you can, look after Bertrand. He's had a hard time of it, and it isn't his fault that he behaves the way he does. Just keep giving him chances, and I know he'll come through in the end._

_Give Wolfie a hug from me. Tell Miss McCauley thanks for everything and that I'm sorry I've let her down. I don't think I've missed anyone. At least Renfield won't have to buy tofu for me anymore._

_Just forget about me, Vlad. Forget all this and move on with your life. It's the only thing you can do._

_Love you always,_

_Erin xxx_

* * *

_Wednesday 30__th__ April_

_Dear Erin,_

_You sound like you've given up. DON'T GIVE UP! YOU MUSN'T GIVE UP!_

_You also make it sound as if I'm mad at you. That's ridiculous. I'm mad at the slayers, I'm mad at myself, but there is __no way__ that I am mad at you. NONE of this is your fault, do you understand? NONE of it. I understand why you didn't tell me about the death sentence. I wish you had- I wouldn't have let you stand trial if I'd known- but we can't focus on that now. The important thing is that we get you out of there._

_Don't worry; I'm not planning some midnight raid of the Guild Headquarters or anything. Even Dad's subtler than that. We're working with Bryant to try and overturn the sentence. Bertrand seems convinced that it's going to be a gradual process- appeals and all that stuff- but we've only got a fortnight before they're legally eligible to carry out the sentence. I can't wait that long. We need to get you out of there ASAP._

_The most important thing is not to panic. Bryant says that it's routine to pass the death sentence after a conviction of espionage, so by no means is all hope lost. We're going to get you out of there, Erin. I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise._

_Everyone at school keeps asking where you are. Dad told Miss McCauley that you had urgent family business- she was practically spitting feathers, apparently. I think we're going to have to come up with a new line soon! I've got that Becky girl to collect your classwork for you for when you get out. I'd forward it to the Guild but they won't allow it. They're still convinced that the sentence is going to go ahead._

_It's so strange at Garside without you. It's lonely. I feel like I did before you arrived, all those months ago with Ingrid in your car- Garside wasn't a home then. It's never really been one, but I feel easier in it when you're there. You're not a bloodthirsty, vicious, merciless vampire: you're normal. So wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly normal. And sane and sensible and argumentative and defiant and stubborn. And sweet. And daring. And brave. You're so, so brave, Erin. I don't know how you kept it all together, believing that you were going to die. You sacrificed the happiness of what you believed to be your final days to try and save me from hundreds of years of heartache, and I'll never forget it._

_But we've got time, Erin. We can lodge an appeal, we can overturn the sentence- we've got plenty of options. I'm not going to let them do this to you. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than the Slayers' Guild to separate us._

_I still can't believe this is happening. And I do blame myself, Erin. I should have protected you; I should have brought this whole thing up with the Guild as soon as that letter arrived. We might have been able to stop this before it picked up pace and went too far. I knew there was something strange going on when it had taken them three months to get in touch. I suppose they'd been planning their attack all that time, working out the best way to get back at you. I expected a fine, community service at most- I didn't even expect prison. I suppose you really do know them better than I do._

_The Guild thinks they know what they're doing but they're out of their depth. They haven't reckoned on what Bryant and his team can do. They haven't reckoned on me, either. If they so much as touch you- I'll kill them. I'll kill all of them. I don't care about the Truce. I'll drain every last one of them if that's what it takes._

_Ingrid says hello. She's worried about you, I can tell, but she'll never admit it. Dad and Bertrand are at each other's throat, as per. Dad says we're doing too much, Bertrand says we're not doing enough. All Renfield is worried about is whether they're feeding you properly. Wolfie doesn't suspect a thing. We're not going to tell him- he's too young._

_Just sit tight. We're going to get you out of this, I promise._

_Love you too,_

_Vlad xxx_

_P.S. Ingrid managed to get in touch with Ryan. He says he got your letter but he hasn't been able to reply because he's on the run. I don't know what from. He's thinking of you, though. We all are._

**TBC...**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have taken the executive decision to place Erin's fate in your hands, dear readers: would you like to see Vlad pull off some miraculous rescue? Or would you like to see Erin swing? I will leave it up to you. Leave me a review/send me a PM letting me know what you would like to happen...**


	18. Chapter 18

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

Chapter 18

Erin really didn't suit orange.

As Vlad sat opposite her, holding her hand across the table, he couldn't help but notice how the garish colour brought out the redness of the spots on her chin.

The visiting room was almost deserted; a dense, grim space cluttered with metal tables and plastic chairs. There were no windows. The air was hot and humid; Vlad could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back. Only a lone guard was present, armed with stake, crossbow and UV bomb, his eyes boring into the back of Erin's blonde head as he hovered by the door.

"I look hideous," Erin muttered distractedly, running her free hand haggardly through her unwashed hair.

"It doesn't matter," Vlad muttered, tracing delicate circles on the inside of her wrist in an attempt to soothe her.

She snorted. "You're supposed to tell me that I look beautiful no matter what I'm wearing," she teased, unable to stop the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. The smile, so rarely seen in the past few weeks, transformed her entire face- but Vlad noticed that it didn't quite reach her eyes. He stared deep into them, attempting to lose himself in their blue depths as he had so often done before, but there was nothing behind them now; almost as if the life had already been drained from them.

"Did you come on your own?" she continued. Vlad nodded, before glancing quickly at the guard, who was busy examining the sharpness of his stake. Quick as a flash, he thrust his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, drawing out a folded piece of grubby, dog-eared paper and sliding it across the table to Erin.

"Letter from Ryan," he murmured. She slipped it down the front of her uniform, squeezing Vlad's hand in thanks.

"Is he ok?"

"Ingrid managed to track him down. He's a little worse for wear, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." Noticing that Erin still looked worried, he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing it gently. "He just got on the wrong side of a werewolf, that's all. He's had to get out of the area, just for a few weeks to let the pack cool off."

"Will he be back soon? I'd like to see him before…" Erin trailed off, her eyes flicking downwards. She suddenly became engrossed in a scratch on the surface of the table. Vlad stared haphazardly into space lest the guard notice that something was up- until he heard Erin sniff.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching across and gently lifting her chin. He felt his heart shatter as a tear dripped delicately off the end of her nose. "It'll be alright."

Erin choked back a sob, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The appeal's in less than a week and then I'm finished, Vlad!" She looked back down, her hands twisting furiously in her lap.

"Look at me, Erin," Vlad said firmly. She ignored him. "_Look at me_," he repeated, grabbing her chin again. He met her sullen gaze sternly. "I am not going to let this happen to you, do you understand? I don't care what any of the slayers say- _you will not hang_."

"What, are you saying you'll pull off some daring midnight rescue?" she scoffed.

"Yes, if I have to."

Erin started. "But- but what about the Truce?" she asked, shocked.

"Truce, schmuce," Vlad whispered playfully, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Erin, however, pushed his hand away, leaning back in her chair to look at Vlad properly.

"You'd do that- for me?" she asked, slightly breathlessly.

"If that's what it takes."

"So the meetings with Bryant are going well, then?"

Vlad hesitated. In truth, they had been backed into a bit of a corner. Whilst there was no denying that the handing down of the death sentence was ludicrously harsh, there was still evidence to prove that Erin _had_ been a double-agent, even if only for a few hours. This would complicate matters no end, and thus make the presiding judge less likely to grant Erin an acquittal. As Vlad looked into his girlfriend's face, his words died on his lips. She looked so dejected, so lost: he couldn't add to her burden. They'd find something, he knew they would; they still had a few more days.

"They're going just fine," he lied smoothly, forcing his voice to remain cheery. "We'll have you out of here in no time." Erin smiled widely, before leaning across the table and throwing her arms around his neck.

"No touching!" the guard snapped, waving the UV bomb in the air threateningly. Erin drew back, still grinning, but Vlad didn't have the heart to smile back. He was immediately regretting his lie, but there was no going back now- he'd just have to work doubly hard to make sure that Bryant found something, some clause or appendix, that they had thus far overlooked and that would get Erin off.

But Vlad knew from experience that these things were easier said than done, and the relentlessly clenching knot of panic had returned to haunt the pit of his stomach.

Time was running out.

* * *

"Right," Bertrand said wearily, replacing his now-empty mug of tea on the desk with a resounding clunk, "Where are we?"

No-one answered. Bryant was staring pensively at the whitewashed walls; his assistant was flicking furiously through the case notes; Vlad was messing around with the stapler. No-one wanted to voice what they knew the others were thinking: they were nowhere. It didn't matter how many times they tried to side-step the issue, however many times they glossed over the fact that there were only five days left until the appeal; whichever way they looked at it, Erin _was_ guilty. It was ridiculous, of course, but true- she _had_ double-crossed the Guild, she _had_ been working for the vampires instead of the slayers. There was no denying that she had broken the law.

"You said you could get her off," Vlad said to Bryant suddenly. The accusatory tone caused the lawyer drew himself up, the stubble around his usually well-shaven chin proof of the midnight oil he had recently been burning.

"I think you'll find what I actually said was that if there was a loop-hole in the charge I would be sure to find it."

"We don't have the time to wait for you to find a loop-hole anymore," Vlad snarled.

"I'm doing all I can, Mr Count-"

"You're supposed to be the best in the business!"

"If I cracked every case I took on I would be a very rich man!"

"So there's nothing more you can do, is that what you're saying?"

"Look, I understand this is difficult for you, but it may be time to face the facts."

"Which are?"

The lawyer hesitated, meeting Bertrand's gaze briefly. The tutor nodded slightly, as if granting the lawyer permission to proceed. "I'm simply suggesting that it may be time to look towards other options," he finished delicately.

Vlad was nonplussed. "_Other options_?" he repeated warily.

Bryant sighed. "I think, Mr Count, that the time has come for you to decide what is more important: maintaining peaceful relations with the Slayers' Guild, or saving the life of your girlfriend."

There was an uneasy silence. If Vlad chose the first option, then Erin would die; but choosing the latter would plunge vampire-kind into conflict.

"This is so unfair!" he burst out, slamming his fist on the desk in frustration. The rickety oak structure gave an ominous creak. "We never asked for the slayers to come swooping down on us yet it's us that have to make the sacrifices!"

"All's fair in love and war," Bryant's assistant piped up. The lawyer shot him a particularly vicious look; he scuttled off, removing the empty mugs on his way out.

"Look," Vlad resumed, as soon as the office door had snapped shut, "Forget overturning the conviction. There's just not the evidence for that, we can all agree on that, surely? We just need to get Erin off the death penalty, then we can keep plugging away at reducing the sentence once the appeal's over."

"And what about your training?" Bertrand demanded, outraged. "You've missed enough sessions as it is recently."

"For God's sake, Bertrand, I don't-"

"You turn eighteen at the end of June, Vlad; you can't afford to be out of shape for your coronation!"

"There will be no coronation without Erin!" Vlad roared. He was tired- tired of everyone overlooking her. The Count, true to form, had tried to pretend that everything was normal, perhaps in the vain hope that all memory of Erin would simply fade from Vlad's mind now she wasn't around; Bertrand had been non-stop nagging him about preparations for his coronation; and Ingrid had been caught by Renfield rifling through Erin's make-up bag.

"She won't be needing her nail-varnish when she's dead," she had reasoned.

Vlad's nerves, already frayed from lack of food and sleep (and, most significantly, lack of news), were teetering on a knife's edge. He, Bertrand and Bryant had spent the past nine days fruitlessly rifling through huge, dusty volumes concerning slayer law; and now, there were only five days left until the appeal.

Five days left until the slayers could quite legally lead Erin to the gallows.

"Do you think we can do it?" Vlad asked Bryant quietly. He needed an answer, once and for all.

The lawyer looked flustered. "Well, I'm not-"

"Yes or no, do you think we can do it?"

"Now, really, Mr Count, I-"

"_Do you think we can do it_?"

The lawyer met Vlad's gaze. Vlad knew that he had heard the desperation in his voice. A moment's pause- before the imposing, intimidating man, with that aura of authority that so many envied and so many feared, seemed to deflate before Vlad's very eyes.

"No," he answered simply.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for your wonderful ideas. Some of them were pure genius- pretty jealous that I didn't come up with them myself! So I suppose my real question now is: do I write a sequel to the sequel? As with 'Redemption', I wasn't planning on writing one, but I've had a couple of fantastic suggestions for endings that would require a sequel. I will not be in the least offended if no-one wants one, and I have plenty of options to end this story in the next two chapters should that be the case, but the offer's on the table... thanks again, all of you!_


	19. Chapter 19

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: A slightly longer chapter for you. I am still undecided on whether to write a sequel- I have a couple of other story ideas that I have been dying to pursue for quite some time. I shall let you know my final decision when I post the final chapter (which, incidentally, should be either Tuesday or Wednesday). Thank you for all your enthusiasm concerning the sequel :) virtual hugs for you all. Enjoy the penultimate chapter!_

Chapter 19

"All rise."

"If they tell me to rise one more time…" the Count threatened, shooting the clerk a venomous look as he struggled to his feet. The clan was once again back in the courtroom, back in their specially constructed gallery, back beneath the domed ceiling painted with angelic cherubs holding their golden harps aloft. Vlad scowled at the creatures, cursing their joyful expressions- it was alright for them. All they had to do was smile sweetly for the rest of eternity. It didn't matter how many innocents were condemned below them, all they had to do was keep the grins plastered on their fat little faces and all would be well.

"The date is the 10th May 2012; Right Honourable Judge Bennett presiding; appeal concerning the sentence handed down on the 26th April 2012 to Erin Francesca Noble; charge and subsequent conviction of espionage against the Slayers' Guild of Great Britain; death sentence pronounced," the clerk reeled off to the court scribe, who began scribbling furiously, her fountain pen scratching unpleasantly on the spotless court documents. "Clerk of the court: Edmund Cecil Walker. Court scribe: Hannah Melissa Davies. Court usher…"

Ingrid yawned widely. "If they go on for much longer he'll be reading out the obituaries," she said, not troubling to keep her voice down.

The clerk ignored her. "The time is now 9:17am. Proceed." He sat down with a flourish, glaring up at Ingrid through his steel-rimmed spectacles. She smiled sarcastically at him, flicking her pointed tongue out like an aggravated rattle-snake.

The courtroom was far emptier than it had been during the trial. Over half of the public gallery sat unoccupied, and the general muttering and rustling of the assembled slayers was far more subdued. Yet Vlad knew that they were as intrigued to see how Bryant was going to talk the judge into giving Erin a reprieve as he was.

As the elderly man began his opening speech, reminding them all of why they had gotten out of bed at six-thirty on an overcast Saturday morning, Vlad allowed his mind to wander. He felt a jolt to his gut as he spotted Erin; she was sat straighter than usual, a sort of quiet confidence emanating from her. She met Vlad's eyes, and shot him a smile- Vlad felt a pang of guilt. Her optimism would have been endearing if it hadn't been founded on a lie. Vlad's lie.

"Did you tell her?" Bertrand whispered. Vlad swallowed, deciding to play for time.

"Tell her what?" he asked innocently, forcing his voice to remain indifferent.

Bertrand raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "You know what."

Vlad sighed- he had been rumbled. He knew his lying was atrocious at the best of times. "No, I haven't," he hissed irritably. "There was never the right moment."

"But you didn't get her hopes up, did you?"

Vlad said nothing; thankful, not for the first time, that he was incapable of blushing.

"Vlad…" Bertrand groaned.

"What?" he snapped. The judge faltered in his speech, his eyes flicking up to the gallery briefly before resettling on Erin. "I just didn't want to scare her anymore," Vlad continued in a quieter tone. Bertrand snorted in disbelief.

"You really are an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

"That is tantamount to treason, Bertrand; I could have you staked for that!"

"I'd like to see you try, you haven't turned up to training in weeks-"

"Children, please!" Ingrid scolded lazily, looking positively delighted at the disruption being caused. "Let us have some decorum for once."

"Shut up, Ingrid," Vlad snarled.

"What a witty comeback. I don't know how you think of them."

"Order!" the judge barked, rapping his gavel smartly. Vlad rolled his eyes- the man seemed to do that more times than was strictly necessary.

"Will the defence please present their case?" the clerk ordered, a bright blue vein throbbing horribly near his temple. Bryant assumed the stand, nodding politely at the clerk before turning to face the judge.

"Your Honour, I shall not insult your intelligence by, to coin the popular phrase, _beating about the bush_. Both Miss Noble and I stand before you in acknowledgement of the crime she has committed. Every man and woman in this courtroom, whether they be slayer, breather or vampire, knows that this young lady is guilty of espionage. I do not attempt to deny it, and neither, I am sure, does Miss Noble.

What I ask of you today, Your Honour, is a reprieve; a reprieve from the harshest of sentences that the law can hand down. Yes, Miss Noble is guilty, yes, she committed espionage, but just think what that crime has achieved! A Truce, a ceasefire, a state of peace between vampires and slayers! Slayings are now only performed in self-defence, and are down 390% from this time last year; there have been only thirty-seven recorded bitings since the Truce came into force at the beginning of December 2011, and repeat offenders have been executed for their offences. I implore you, Your Honour, to see that if it had not been for the actions of this girl, of this seventeen year-old, then who knows whether the Guild would still be in operation today?"

"You go too far, sir!" roared a portly gentleman sat at the back of the gallery.

"Objection, Your Honour!" boomed the prosecution barrister. "The defence must refrain from presenting idle speculation!"

"Oh, pipe down, Markson," Bryant snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously as he squared up to his opposition.

"GENTLEMEN!" the judge rumbled, banging his gavel for all it was worth. "May I remind you that we present our evidence under the watchful eye of the Lord, and that misconduct will be punished by eternal damnation in a pit of fire and brimstone?"

"Jesus Christ, where did they dredge him up from? He sounds about a hundred and sixty," Ingrid sniffed disdainfully. The lawyers were by now straightening their wigs, moving reluctantly away from each other.

"If the prosecution will now take the stand?" the clerk asked slightly hysterically, his voice higher and shakier than usual. The barrister swept elegantly up to the podium, though the redness of his face ruined the effect slightly. He removed a loose thread from the sleeve of his robes before clearing his throat pompously.

"Your Honour, I have little more to say that has not already been said. The defence has condemned itself out of its own mouth- that is, it has actually _admitted_ that Miss Noble is guilty. Surely they can be no further question on whether she should hang? The law clearly states that any man or woman convicted of espionage is to hang by the neck until they are dead; are we to make an exception for this girl?

And, if we do, how many more are we to make exceptions for? Surely, by allowing one to go free, we show every slayer in the country, nay, in the _world_, that the crime of espionage goes unpunished in the United Kingdom? The consequences of this, milord, would be catastrophic. We would see an increase in crime, in delinquency, and, most painful of all, a decline in the respectability of the noble name of this Guild. Your Honour, this girl must not go unpunished; she fraternised with the enemy, she betrayed her kind… and now she must pay the price."

A smattering of applause followed this sensational little speech. The barrister bowed slightly to the gallery, grinning smugly, before settling himself back in his seat. His assistants began to whisper frantically, but he waved them away with a dismissive gesture of his hands; he seemed to think that he had done all he needed to do.

Vlad could only hope that Bryant had, too.

* * *

Every lamp in the room burned copiously. The magnificent chandelier, though electric, emitted a strangely hypnotic flickering light, which cast ghoulish shadows on the wood-panelled walls. Though there were no windows, Vlad could almost sense the darkness of the tepid May evening pressing down upon the vast building. He felt as if he were trapped in a vacuum- the airless space threatened to suffocate him, clamping down on his lungs, his kidneys, his heart, threatening to cut off the supply of oxygen to his over-worked and sleep-deprived brain. Through his stupor, he dimly registered the huge, spiked metal clock hanging in the corridor striking 9:30pm.

Erin yawned discreetly. The dimness of the room made her look strangely ghostly. The strands of gold shot through her neat blonde hair, freshly-washed and combed for the occasion, caught the lamplight and gleamed like a halo around her head.

"Please be upstanding for the Right Honourable Judge," the clerk called, sounding slightly weary himself. The judge assumed his seat, surveying the courtroom sternly. His face was impassive as his gaze rested on Erin. She met his eyes, her stance neither defiant nor submissive- she merely exuded that same quiet confidence that Vlad had seen in her earlier. He ignored the uncomfortable squirm of guilt; Bryant had put up a good fight, after all. The judge surely must have seen through the prosecution's well-rehearsed waffle and finally realised Erin's innocence?

"This case," the judge began, a slight crease appearing in his wizened brow, "May be one of the most controversial I have ever presided over, in a career which has spanned almost four decades. I see two sides: a young, vulnerable seventeen-year old, manipulated by a vampire clan, drawn in by the glamour and romanticism of 'star-cross'd' love. She became carried away, swept up in the excitement of the drama that unfolded; but she knew not what consequences her actions would bring.

Yet I see another side: a sly, malicious young girl, her heart hardened by the demise of her brother, who swore revenge on the Guild and all it stood for when it was unable to save her sibling from the vampiric curse. A jury has given its verdict; I have pronounced my sentence. The purpose of this hearing is to see whether further discussion of this case brings me to alter my decision- on both counts, I stand firm. Erin Francesca Noble remains guilty of espionage, and shall hang by the neck until she is dead as punishment of her crime. Let her betrayal serve as an example to all those who may consider indulging their desires for power and vengeance."

He banged his gavel in satisfaction, a terrifying air of finality about his words.

"Appeal denied," the clerk announced, in case anyone needed further confirmation. "Court dismissed."

Vlad stood up, trembling all over. Pure hatred, pure loathing, complete and utter mindless fury was overwhelming him. He could feel it surging through his veins like poison, until his cool, pale flesh burned with white-hot rage. He felt as though his very bones had been set alight, as if the marrow was crumbling inside of them.

The adrenaline pulsing through Vlad replaced the energy that the argentilium panels had stolen. He didn't stop to think; he didn't stop to plan a strategy. Launching himself off the balcony, he flew down to where Erin was stood, frozen, trembling in horror at the judge's verdict. He landed clumsily, grabbing her arm to steady himself.

"Run. Now," he hissed; he didn't wait for an answer. He sprinted through the courtroom, knocking over chairs and overturning desks as he careered towards the huge oak doors, all the while pulling Erin behind him, towards the waiting chamber, towards where he knew freedom awaited them…

Sheer pandemonium broke out. The entire assembly collapsed into chaos; many slayers were shrieking, running for cover; others grabbed at the pair as they charged past, yet were simply knocked back by a wave of Vlad's hand. His father was jumping up and down manically in the gallery, cheering Vlad on for all he was worth.

"Yes! That's my Vladdy!" he shouted, over and over again, while Ingrid and Bertrand leaned perilously far over the edge of the balcony to try and catch a glimpse of the couple streaking across the courtroom.

They were almost at the door. Vlad could see the ripples of light reflected in the gold-plated door-knob. Erin was slowing behind him, out of breath and gasping, limping heavily after having cracked her knee on the edge of a table. Vlad drove them onwards, stretching out his hand, reaching, straining…

A shot rang out. There were screams of shock and fear, echoing ominously around the hallowed hall, and Vlad dived to the floor, pulling Erin with him. She hit the ground first, landing hard, face-down. They lay perfectly still. The sudden silence that had descended upon the courtroom caused Vlad's ears to ring and he screwed up his face in pain. He sat up gingerly, relinquishing his hold of Erin's hand before twisting round to see what had caused the interruption.

Thomas Golding was stood on the opposite side of the gallery. He had obviously run in through an upstairs entrance to see what all the noise was about. He clasped something bright and shining in his left hand. He was shaking violently, his chest heaving as the object he held fell to the floor with a loud clunk. He dropped his arm to his side, his eyes fixed on Vlad and Erin, a look of sheer horror displayed upon his deathly-white face.

A cold swoop of dread engulfed Vlad. He shuddered involuntarily, glancing towards Erin- she hadn't moved. He leant over to grasp her shoulder, shaking her gently.

"Erin?" he whispered. He made to roll her over- perhaps she had hit her head on the floor and knocked herself out- before a terrible, terrible smell overwhelmed his nostrils and rendered him temporarily paralysed. It clouded his thoughts, blocking out, inexplicably, every other sight and sound and smell. He blinked furiously, his eyes stinging- and his gaze, as if magnetically, was drawn to the source of the tantalising scent.

He almost gagged as he saw the river of deliciously warm blood flowing steadily from the hole between Erin's shoulder blades.

_TBC..._


	20. Chapter 20

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I haven't seen the final three episodes of YD yet because I'm in a show. I can't deal with the suspense! Anyway, here's the final chapter of 'Repercussions'- enjoy..._

Chapter 20

Vlad hadn't been invited to the funeral.

He didn't care. He hadn't particularly been looking forward to making small-talk with a roomful of slayers only pretending to care that his beloved girlfriend was dead. The phone conversation with her parents had been awkward enough; while they had seemed desperate to hear that Erin's final few months had been happy ones, at the same time it seemed to disgust them that she had spent the last six months of her life dating and living with vampires. Instead, Vlad had arranged his own little memorial for Erin. As soon as twilight fell the following Friday, he and Renfield began to collect armfuls of twigs, dry leaves and moss, systematically building them into what resembled an anthill. The cold, despite the fact that it was early May, burrowed into Vlad's pale flesh, biting at his bones and chilling him to his unbeating core.

Ingrid joined them after about half an hour. She didn't help, exactly- she had just manicured her nails- but she watched silently from the side lines, leaning on a nearby tree as the bonfire began to take shape. She wasn't wearing as much make-up as usual, and her hair, usually scrupulously sleek, looked knotty and uncombed.

"Do you want me to get Bertrand?" she called to her brother as he struggled with a dismembered branch, her voice echoing eerily around the clearing.

"If he wants to help, he'll come," Vlad answered through gritted teeth. Ingrid's gaze lingered on him for a moment, before she sighed; rolling up the sleeves of her dress, she bent down to help Vlad free the branch. Together, they dragged the damp piece of wood over to the steadily growing heap in the centre of the clearing.

"Thanks," Vlad muttered grudgingly, wiping his muddy hands on the front of his shirt. Ingrid merely nodded, picking her way gingerly back to her tree, trying to avoid the worst of the mud patches.

Vlad looked at his watch- it was almost 10:30pm. He had told the clan to be out here for half past at the latest, yet there was no sign of them. His first feeling was one of irritation, until, to his horror, it was quickly replaced by a sharp pricking sensation at the back of his eyes and an uncomfortably large lump in his throat. He turned away quickly, drawing in shallow gasps of the cool night air in an attempt to retain his control. His tears spilled over the edge, warming his cheeks before being cooled by the wicked night breeze that lifted his hair and rustled the canopy of leaves above him. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Vlad," his sister whispered. He nodded stiffly, blinking furiously as he tried to hold himself together. Now was not the time, he told himself, he couldn't break down, not here, not when the rest of the family was about to arrive…

"I know what it's like to lose someone you care about," Ingrid continued.

"But I didn't just care for Erin; I loved her."

"And I didn't love Will?" she retorted, and Vlad heard the bitterness in her voice.

"It doesn't matter now, anyway," he said coldly, shaking off his sister's hand. "They're dead, both of them- both of them killed by slayers. And Erin wasn't even a vampire."

Ingrid hadn't moved; Vlad could still sense her lingering behind him. A pregnant pause.

"Do you think you would have done it?" she asked him finally. Vlad, despite himself, twisted around to look at her.

"Done what?"

"Bitten her."

Vlad hesitated, appraising his sister coolly; but it appeared, this time, she was in earnest. "If it was what she'd wanted," he sighed eventually. "But I don't think it was."

"Don't you?" Ingrid prompted gently. "Not even if it was the only way?"

Vlad shrugged, non-committal; this was a pointless discussion. Thanks to the slayers, they'd never know whether Erin would have wanted to be transformed.

The low murmur of voices brought him out of his reverie. Squinting into the rapidly encroaching darkness, he could just about make out the shadowy figures of the Count, Bertrand, and a smaller, fuzzier shape yapping at their heels. Vlad's head jerked up- through the trees, he could just glimpse the ghostly light of a full moon.

"You're late," he growled. His father ignored him, looking around the clearing in distaste.

"Is this it?" he asked, not troubling to conceal his disappointment.

"Well it might have been more impressive if the two of you had put down your goblets for two seconds and come out to help," Vlad snarled.

The Count looked taken aback. "Well, we're here now," he said, gesturing towards the bonfire haphazardly. "Let's get on with it and then we can all go back inside."

Ingrid hissed at him. "Don't you understand what this means to Vlad?" she demanded angrily.

"Don't pretend you care about him now, Ingrid, not after everything you've done," the Count sneered, brushing past his daughter to take his place by the bonfire.

"You know what?" Vlad snapped suddenly, anger flaring violently inside of him. "This was a stupid idea. None of you care that Erin's dead anyway." He turned on his heel and made to march back into the school.

"Hey," Bertrand said softly, grabbing Vlad's arm. "We do care. All of us."

Vlad snorted. "As if. You've all tried to kill her." He looked at his tutor pointedly. "Some of us more than once."

Vlad wasn't sure whether he even wanted to do this anymore. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all; this was what was going to commemorate his murdered girlfriend, was it? A pathetically small pile of twigs and leaves, which would burn to cinders within five minutes, if it even set alight at all? Erin deserved better than that.

Miss McCauley had been devastated when the Count had told her. Of course, they'd had to conceal the real reason, putting it down to a freak accident. The entire thing had been hushed up, lest those breather policemen started sniffing around. The weekly assembly had been one of the hardest parts. Miss McCauley had told Vlad that he could take as many days off as he needed, but he had exams in a fortnight, and so he'd walked into the assembly hall with his head held high. He hadn't cried when the headmistress had read out her tribute; he hadn't cried when various members of their form had stood up to recite poems or play pieces of music that reminded them of Erin. He'd very nearly lost it at the end, when one of her favourite songs had been played out over the loudspeaker as the entire school sat in silence, in remembrance.

But he didn't want anyone's pity. He couldn't be doing with the sympathetic glances, the pats on the back, the nudges, the whispers, the points as he walked through the school corridors. Private though his and Erin's relationship may have been, it hadn't stopped the entire student body from taking an almost obsessive interest in the romance between the strong, silent owner's son and the mysterious new girl.

A photograph of her had been put up in a corner of the assembly hall, tucked away next to the trophy cabinet. A number of tea candles had been lit on the shelf below. Miss McCauley had asked Vlad to choose the picture- he had dithered, flicking desperately through the small album Erin had brought with her, before Ingrid had taken pity on him. The chosen shot depicted Erin standing next to a huge fir tree, snow in her hair and clinging to her clothes. She was smiling, laughing at some long-forgotten joke. Their relationship had been in its infancy at that point; it gave Vlad shivers to think that the photo had been taken almost five months ago, in mid-December. Who knew then that she would never reach her eighteenth birthday?

"Are we lighting this thing or not, then?" the Count asked irritably, pulling his cape tighter around himself. Vlad bit back a retort. Sighing, he brought the box of matches out of his pocket. It took his trembling fingers a couple of goes to strike the match before he dropped it on the bonfire; it hissed and spluttered, a thin flame creeping up one of the branches, ensnaring a leaf here, a twig there, until gradually, the entire mound was ablaze with a curiously mesmerising dancing light.

The clan stood in silence. The brightness of the flames hurt Vlad's eyes and he looked away. He stared up at the sky, watching the thin tendrils of grey smoke curl up, up and away, dissolving into nothingness. The damn fumes were making his eyes water again. He dimly saw Ingrid grab Wolfie's collar as the little puppy ran too close to the blaze; she lifted him up, burying her face in his soft fur, crooning gently to him. Vlad would usually have been shocked to see such tenderness from his sister, but nothing could shock him anymore.

He hadn't ventured into Erin's room since the night he had broken her gramophone. Everything was still too raw. He couldn't bear the thought of her bed, her clothes, her possessions lying untouched, exactly where she had left them, as if nothing had happened. As if she was still alive.

Yet Vlad felt no desire for vengeance. The initial pain of his loss had been excruciating, but his emotions had now been all but paralysed. They were nothing better than deadened nerve ends. And who cared about peace? Who cared about the Truce? The knowledge that he would never lose himself in his girlfriend's blue gaze again had been enough to quell Vlad's anger. Erin wouldn't have wanted him to go off the rails, he knew that much; he knew she would have wanted him to keep working at maintaining co-existence.

But then she had been like that. Thoughtful. Caring. Compassionate. Everything vampires weren't, Vlad thought bitterly. She hadn't been perfect, of course, but who was? Vlad certainly wasn't, and she was far more perfect than anyone else he had ever met. It was her imperfections that reminded Vlad that she was human, that she was a precious, precious breather. Fragile, delicate, breakable… as Thomas Golding had proved.

Vlad wondered dully what had happened to the man. Strangely, he felt little anger towards him now. He knew that he hadn't intended to kill Erin; it had been instinct. He had heard the commotion and simply fired the gun blindly. Vlad knew he would have done the same.

The fire was burning low now, guttering and spitting. It had lasted longer than Vlad had expected, but he still felt that ache in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't noticed it immediately; it was only after he had been dragged away from the scene by his father, the aggravatingly tempting scent of Erin's blood still lingering in his nostrils, the image of the wound still imprinted in front of his eyes, that he had felt it.

A dull pain throbbing ceaselessly in the hollow, empty space around his navel.

Vlad stumbled backwards as he felt his knees turn to jelly, his back hitting the sharp bark of a tree. He clutched at a bough in an attempt to keep himself upright, ignoring the startled glances he was receiving from the clan. He didn't care what they thought of him now: their taunts didn't matter to him anymore.

The only thing that had mattered to him was dead. Dead, and never coming back.

The Chosen One was on his own.

_FIN_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and reviewed both this story and its prequel, 'Redemption'. It really means a lot to me that you guys take the time to read my work and give me feedback. Despite the fourth series of YD having now drawn to a close, I hope to continue writing; as far as a sequel is concerned, I will begin writing it as soon as my AS exams in January are over. It shall be entitled 'Recuperation' (sticking with the 'R' theme), and expect to see the first chapter around mid-January. All that remains for me to do now is to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy new year. Here's to more wonderful FanFiction from us all in 2013!_


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